The Wisteria Lane Horrors: Book II: Svetlana
by bloodrosered
Summary: Svetlana, a beautiful vampire moves onto Wisteria Lane. When she sees John, the gardener, she will do whatever it takes to get him. M for vampire violence and sexuality
1. Episode 1

The Wisteria Lane Horrors

THE WISTERIA LANE HORRORS

Book II: The Vampire Svetlana (the Nightly Neighbor or the Tale of the Wisteria Lane Vampire)

"Anyone who eats my flesh

And drinks my blood has eternal life,

And I shall raise him up on the last day."

-Book of John, Chpt. 6, Line 55

Episode 1

THE QUESTION CONCERNING THE EXISTENCE OF VAMPIRES

Adults tell children stories about characters from storybooks, stories passed down from generation to generation, or from their imagination: Santa Claus bringing presents to good girls and boys on Christmas, the Easter Bunny filling colorful Easter baskets with egg shaped sweets and hiding them for the children to find, or the Tooth Fairy exchanging a child's lost tooth for a coin.

Also, they tell scary stories about the creatures of the night: monsters, goblins, ghosts, ghouls, witches, werewolves, zombies, demons and devils. Of course, we only tell these stories for fun. Children have often asked if such creatures exist and adults always answer:

_Of course not. It's just a story._

The creature that has been widely popular in horror stories and is often asked about by children:

_Mommy, Daddy, is there such things as vampires?_

And of course, we answer:

_No._

In reality, their existence has always been questionable since we know nothing about them or their origins since they hide in the shadows, choosing to remain anonymous to the human world.

Yet, their legend has fascinated us for centuries. We ask ourselves: what explains our fascination with these creatures of the night? Is it their overtones of sexual lust, power, wealth, beauty, and control? Or is it our fascination with their immortality: the ability to live and be young forever, to watch time go by and the world change era after era?

In folklore, vampires are believed to be living corpses that rise from their graves at night to feed on the blood of mortals. They are often depicted as beautiful and youthful with alabaster skin, giving them the appearance that they were carved from stone, piercing yet seemingly non-threatening eyes that have unusual colors; they are not a normal human eye color, long hair and glassy long fingernails, charming and fine-mannered. Vampires use their charms to seduce unsuspecting mortals, just enough to get them to trust them…and before they know it, they sink their razor sharp fangs into their necks and suck their blood. Blood, human or animal, is their sole source of food, their only way of surviving.

There are many beliefs about vampires in stories: beliefs about being bitten by a vampire, their amazing abilities, how to tell if one is a vampire, and how to thwart and kill them.

In many stories, there are conflicting theories about the vampire virus: some say that if one is bitten by a vampire, they will become a vampire while others argue that the virus is fatal to humans. The vampire virus has symptoms of pale skin, low red blood cell count, high fever, severe migraine (the feeling one's skull is splitting in half), chills, and hallucinations, delusions of blood-drinking, making death painfully slow. The only cure is to drink a vampire's blood, hence receiving the dark gift of immortality.

Vampires have amazing abilities that no human could possess. They can shape shift into animals such as bats, cats, owls, and foxes or elemental objects such as fogs or mist, have faster reflexes than humans and move too fast for the human eye to see, can read people's minds, can float and fly through the air, climb walls or hang from the ceiling like an insect without effort, sneak through keyholes (after being invited into a home; a common rule for all vampires: not to enter a home without being invited) while in other stories they come and go as they please.

To tell if one is a vampire physically is extremely pale skin, unusual eyes, casting no shadow or reflection, cannot be photographed or videotaped. Another way is when they are sleeping in their coffins: bloating, blood in the mouth, red face, the body looking fresh after a few years, and longer hair and fingernails.

Many theorists have argued about vampires and their preternatural abilities, yet none have come to a precise conclusion.

In all tales about vampires, there are methods to kill and thwart them. Some methods of thwarting are garlic and religious objects such as crucifixes or holy water. Some theorists believe that these methods don't affect them.

Some ways to kill vampires are various in tales: from a wooden stake or a silver crucifix stake through the heart to garlic sewn in the mouth of a sleeping vampire to a silver consecrated bullet. However, most theorists agree that the best ways to kill a vampire are exposure to the sun, incineration, decapitation and dismemberment.

As for their origins, vampires are believed to have originated from the Slavic countries, located in Eastern and South-Eastern Europe. Otherwise, their history and origins remain unknown. No one knows the beginning of vampires: who was the first vampire and how they were created. It is believed that vampires do not record their history in books either because they wish to remain unknown to mortals or it is forbidden. Our questions about vampires may never be answered.

As the mothers and fathers of Wisteria Lane tucked their young ones into bed, assuring them that they were safe with hugs and kisses, what they didn't know was something was coming: a dark force that would terrorize this peaceful suburban town…

_Bucharest Airport. Bucharest, Romania_

Crowds. Busy feet. People hustling. Chatter everywhere. Intercoms blaring in unintelligible Romanian about departing/arriving flights. Sweat dripping off of foreheads. Body odor hung in the air. Heart beats everywhere and arteries and veins swelling.

The woman stood in line, waiting to pay for her plane ticket at the check-out. She had been waiting for hours and was tired and thirsty…very thirsty…

She wore all black: a head scarf over her head, a veil over her face, sunglasses perched on her upturned nose, gloves on her hands, a long trench coat that covered her from head to foot, and boots on her feet. Her entire attire made her age and gender indeterminate.

She couldn't wait to get to America: the land of the free, opportunity, and home of the brave where they paid you well if you had a job, had good teeth, doctors that are advanced in medicine and knowledge of illnesses, and you lived in a beautiful home. Her own home, Romania, was beautiful with the Carpathian Mountains, the Black Sea, the green meadows, colorful flowers, and ancient castles. Yet, there were too many memories…sad memories…memories from long ago…

_Ioan!_

A voice in the distance of hers from long ago…

_Ioan!_

A forbidden love…

_Ioan!_

A vow of eternal love…

_Ioan!_

Death…

A young man's screams…the nasty thuds of wood…her screams…a slice of metal through flesh…

_NO!! IOAN!!_

Blood on the front of her gown…a heart that would be broken forever…tears of pain…

The woman snapped awake at the sound of a blaring intercom. That damn dream again! It kept coming back! She found her eyes wet with tears, which she wiped away with a shaky hand.

(I'll love you forever, even in the next life. I shall wait for you than to enter eternity without you)

His voice. His eyes. His face. Her…

(Ioan)

They were nothing more than a memory, which she treasured for all eternity.

"Next," said the ticket vendor.

(finally)

Just before she could pay for her ticket, a man cut in front of her, completely oblivious to the fact that she was there.

"Excuse me," she said, politely. "But I was here first."

"Tough!" he said, rudely. His accent was American. A tourist.

She kept her eye on him, studying every detail of him: his pepper grey hair, his height, his weight, and the way he walked; she read his thoughts, listened to his heart beat, watching the carotid arteries swell in his neck that beat in rhythm with his heart. It was a bad heart. He didn't have long to live.

He sat down with a woman. She had an engagement and wedding band on her left hand. Wife. Yet, there seemed to be troubled feelings: the fact that her husband was unfaithful. He fooled around all the time for 39 years. Yet, why did she stay with him? It didn't make any sense. She loved her husband, no matter how many times he hurt her.

They boarded the plane together…completely unaware that someone was following them…

_Delta Airlines, Flight 162_

The couple put their carry-on baggage in the upper compartments above their seats. They sat down and buckled their seatbelts. The man sat near the window, staring out the window at the setting sun: the sun a fiery orange and the clouds rosy pink and rich royal purple, exactly like a Monet painting.

He sighed. He knew his marriage was on the rocks. He loved Carol, really. Yet he couldn't help himself to someone younger and beautiful with nice curves and a good rack. It was irresistible. He had been having affairs since the beginning, even with a 14-year-old girl and he got her pregnant. He had met his biological daughter, but he wanted to work on his marriage first before he did anything else. Yet, Carol always stayed with him, no matter how many times he cheated on her. He knew it was a stupid thing to do; he was a loser and she didn't deserve him.

Yet, he wanted his marriage to work. He saved up enough money from his job at the Feed Store to take a vacation in Romania: see sights like the Carpathian Mountains, the ancient castles, and the Black Sea. The vacation didn't turn out as he had hoped: she complained the entire time about his cheating, how hot and tired she was and yelled at him in a jealous rage when his eye wandered to the young Romanian girls. Of course, his cheating addiction kicked in and he hooked up with a few of them when his wife was sleeping at the hotel.

He just didn't know what to do. Cheating was just irresistible and it was easy if you didn't get caught. It made him feel younger, especially with a younger girl.

Soon, a veiled woman came to a seat just across from him. She tried to put her bag in the upper compartment.

"Here," said the man. "Let me help you."

"Thank you," she replied.

He stared at her. He could see hints of youth beneath the veil. He kept staring at her.

"You are too kind, sir," she said.

Her accent and voice turned him on; foreign women always turned him on: their exotic accent, beauty, and hot desires for sex. Just hearing her accent gave him an erection. He began to fantasize about her: her luscious breasts pressed against him, the heat of her body, him thrusting into her while she moaned and screamed with ecstasy.

"You're welcome," he replied.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" the woman asked.

"No, I didn't think so."

"Didn't you cut in front of me in line at the ticket check-out?"

"Oh!" he said, embarrassed. "Yea. That's right. I do apologize."

"Your apology has been accepted," she replied. "Well, I don't know what your name is."

"Addison," he said. "Addison Prudy."

"Nice to meet you."

"Are you from Romania?"

"Yes. I'm going to America. From what I heard, life is better there."

"It's all right. The politics are bullshit, but as long as you got a job, you got money in your pocket."

"So I have heard."

The sound of his heartbeat got louder in her ears, drowning out everything he was saying. They were silent for a while and he kept staring at her.

"You want to ask questions," she said, softly.

Addison was startled; his head rate leaped at the first sound of her voice; it was as if she could read his mind.

"How did you know?"

"Your eyes told me. I have a gift at reading people. But, by all means, please ask away."

"I wanted to ask why you're wearing all that heavy clothing on a hot day like this."

"To be honest," she said. "I have a genetic disease called porphyria. One of the symptoms makes my skin dangerously sensitive to sunlight. It's a hard disease to live with."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"No need to be sorry. We cannot change things what they are. All we can do is accept it."

That's when his wife, Carol showed up. She gave an icy stare at the exotic stranger that was talking to her husband.

"Excuse me," she said, a hint of jealousy in her voice could be heard. "Am I interrupting a lovely conversation you two are having?"

"No," said the woman. "He just wanted to ask me a question. That is all. And I was kindly answering the gentlemen's question."

"Very well." She turned to her husband. "Come along, Addison. Let's sit in our seats, dear."

"It was nice to meet you…" said Addison. "I don't even know your name."

The angel faced beauty only smiled.

Carol and Addison sat in their seats. The woman listened to Addison's wife scolding him in a jealous rage, telling him that he shouldn't talk to anyone with a double X chromosome while the husband kept saying 'I know, I know'.

Darkness had settled in. The food cart came by and the flight attendant asked the veiled woman if she wanted chicken or beef.

"None for me, thank you," she said.

"Not hungry, miss?"

"No. I'm full."

Addison stared at the veiled woman from the corner of his eye. He really wanted to fuck her…that beautiful, angel faced, exotic creature that sat just across from him. Just thinking about her gave him an erection. His wife had already fallen asleep…thank God for jet lag. He leaned over.

"Hey!" he said.

The veiled woman turned her head slowly in an elegant manner.

"Yes?" she said.

"I want to talk to you for a while."

"Sure. Talk as much as you want."

He began to complain about his life: his troubled marriage, his job at the Feed Shop, his cheating addiction, his bad heart. And she listened.

"Are you married?" he asked.

"Once," she replied. "My husband is dead."  
"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Apology is not necessary, sir. My husband was horrible man. He was abusive."

"Oh. Sorry."

He was silent for a few minutes.

"Would you like to…" she began. She didn't know what word to use.

"Do you mean hook up?" he asked.

"Yes. That's the word."

"Yes. I want to. I'll meet you at the bathroom. Count to ten when I'm in the bathroom."

"Of course."

Addison got up to use the lavatory. She counted to ten, keeping her eye on him. She took off her headscarf and veil and went towards the bathroom he went in. She knocked on the door; he let her in and locked the door. He stared at the woman: the first thought that came into his mind was a china doll. She had flawless, alabaster skin, a beautiful Madonna face, auburn ringlets that looked like silk, violet eyes, and a Romanian upturned nose.

"My God," he whispered, hypnotized. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you," she said. "You're too kind, sir."

Addison stared and stared; he couldn't get enough of this china doll.

"Please! Tell me your name."

"I'm an angel, Addie," she whispered. "Angels don't have names."

"You're right. Perhaps you are an angel."

She was silent for a moment.

"You desire me, don't you?" she whispered seductively.

Addison was stunned when he heard her say this. Before he could respond, she ran a gloved hand up his thigh slowly and he could feel himself getting hard.

"Y…y…yes," he stammered.

She smiled impishly. That's when she unbuttoned her trench coat. Addison saw a beautiful throat with black diamonds and stones from a necklace, a perfect bosom that was encased in a black Renaissance corset. He loved that flawless, alabaster skin. The more he stared at her, the more he wanted her and got harder.

He felt her gloved hand move over his groin; it felt lighter than a butterfly's wing. He moaned and trembled, too hot to care if he was still married and his wife was still in sleeping in her seat.

"Please…" he begged.

He roughly grabbed her by the waist and threw her roughly on the stainless steel sink, spreading her legs roughly. He pushed her skirt up to her thighs; bright red stockings were on her beautiful legs.

He leaned forward to kiss her lips, only she dodged from him and went straight to his neck. He gasped when he felt her lips: they were so cold, yet it brought shivers at the same time because it felt so erotic. She locked her lips on his neck and sucked while she moaned.

"Do you like that?" she whispered.

"Oh God! Yes!"

Addison was so aroused that he didn't notice that his neck was wet…unusually wet. It wasn't until he noticed that there was blood on her lips, grinning and giggling; her canine teeth were unusually long and sharp…but they weren't teeth, but fangs! Panic struck him as he touched his neck to find it wet with blood with twin punctures.

"Perhaps you should think twice when you meet a beautiful woman on a plane," she said, smiling.

Addison stared in horror. He was about to reach for the door, but her hand held his wrist with a strength that was stronger than any man. He was about to scream when a cold hand clapped it shut…he stared into her eyes, which were now an ultraviolet color…the last thing he saw…

The vampire left the bathroom, licking up any trace of blood. She was full and satisfied with her blood meal. She went back to seat. She would feed on more later…

_Hours later…_

"Thank you for flying Delta Airlines. We hope you had a nice flight. Please wait until the plane has come to a complete stop before unbuckling your seatbelts."

Carol Prudy woke up at the sound of the flight attendant's voice. She didn't remember passing out. She found her husband's seat empty. She supposed that he was in the bathroom.

Flight 162 rolled on the runway; tires screeching as they hit the black top, the seats bouncing as the plane slowly positioned at the terminal gate.

"Once again, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for choosing Delta Airlines," said the flight attendant. "The captain has turned off the seatbelt light. Please make your way to the exit on your left."

Carol couldn't find her husband. She went to the flight attendant.

"Miss, I can't find my husband," said Carol.

"When was the last time you saw him?" she asked.

"He was sitting next to me a few hours ago…and I passed out…I think he might be in the bathroom."

The flight attendant checked the bathrooms in coach. Only one was locked.

"Sir?" she said. "Are you alright in there?" She turned to Carol. "What's your husband's name?"

"Addison Prudy."

"Addison Prudy, your wife is looking for you. Are you in here?"

No answer.

"Addison, I'm opening the door."

She took out a tool that she used to open locked lavatories. Soon, Addison Prudy's body was slumped over on the toilet. The flight attendant went over to him to shake him awake. He only fell over like a sack of potatoes and Carol screamed. He was dead!

The flight attendant turned him over to find a horror stricken face with two punctures in his neck. Carol screamed even more. Her husband had been murdered.

"Stay here," said the flight attendant. "I'm going to call for help."

Suddenly, there were only five passengers in their seats, all sleeping. She checked on them…they were all dead!


	2. Episode 2

Episode 2

THE NEW NEIGHBOR

The morning on Wisteria Lane began usual: with a cup a coffee and the morning paper. Lynette Scavo on 4355 always read the business section, Gabrielle Solis on 4349 read the spring collection, Bree Hodge on 4354 searched for decorating ideas, Katherine Mayfair on 4356 looked for new recipes (she smiled evilly hoping to make better food than that idiot Bree Hodge), Bob Hunter and Lee McDermott read the gardening and arts, and Susan Mayer on 4353 read the front page, only to see something shocking that caught her eye…

_VAMPIRES ON A PLANE? FIVE DEAD DUE TO MYSTERIOUS CAUSES, INCLUDING A FAIRVIEW RESIDENT._

"Julie, did you see the front page?" said Susan.

"Yea, so?" she said, uninterested as she got ready for school.

"My dad is dead," said Susan.

"Who? Addison Prudy, the manager at the Feed Shop that slept with Grandma?"

"Yes. It says that he had two punctures in his neck and his blood had been drained."

"That's sad. I'm sorry to hear that, Mom."

By afternoon, she told her lady friends about the front page in the Fairview Tribune.

"Poor guy!" said Bree.

"The police are opening cold cases that are vampire related," said Susan.

"What?" they all said.

"Susan," said Katherine, smiling a fake smile. "Didn't Mommy tell you that vampires don't exist?"

"Yea. Please don't tell me you actually believe that," said Lynette.

"I know. Next thing you know, Susan, you'll be saying you believe in Santa," said Gabrielle.

"As of today, I do."

What the ladies didn't know was that something evil was coming…something that didn't live too far away…

Edie Britt was the only known real estate agent within 100 miles of city limits. She stood in front of the white house next-door to the Solis'. A new client was arriving to see the house.

Forty, tall, blonde, and blue eyed, Edie was known to have a bad reputation and was not well liked on Wisteria Lane because of her 'healthy sex life', as she liked to call it. Her clothes were too obscene for the suburbs: a low cut V-neck that showed a gorgeous, plump and freckled bosom and a short, thigh-high skirt that showed long, sleek, toned and tan legs that glistened in the sun.

Soon a black BMW with dark tinted windows and a moving van pulled up. Soon, a covered person stepped out of the BMW; Edie saw a heel of the boot and knew immediately it was a woman.

"You must be my 12:00," said Edie. "I'm Edie Britt. We spoke on the phone…um…" she tried to remember her name.

"Svetlana," replied the woman from the beneath the veil; her accent sounded like a youthful Slavic. "Sorry I'm late. Had to get luggage from airport."

"Well, shall we begin?"

"Do you mind if we go inside?" the woman said briskly.

Edie raised her eyebrows, surprised at such an immediate request.

"I can't stay out in the sun too long. My skin is extremely sensitive to sunlight."

Edie was surprised again; it was as if the woman could read her mind.

"Well, if you insist."

Edie took the key from her briefcase and unlocked the door. She showed her around to all the different rooms. Svetlana could hear Edie's voice getting softer and slower…all drowned out by the sound of the 'lub-dub' of her heartbeat. She stared at the beautiful neck and watched as the carotid artery throb and swell at each beat. She shook her head to get back to reality.

"Ow!" Edie yelled.

Edie held up a French-tipped finger…it was bleeding. Oh! That bright red color…that sweet copper smell…it began to excite Svetlana.

"Stupid paper!" she murmured. "I hate it when that happens!"

"Huh?" said Svetlana, pretending to know what she was saying.

"I got a paper cut. Don't you hate that?"

"Yes." She was staring at Edie's bloody finger…her excitement growing…

"Well, I'll get myself a Band-Aid," said Edie. "Feel free to help yourself to look around. There's donuts and coffee if you're hungry or thirsty. They're complementary."

"Actually," said Svetlana. "I'll take the house."

Edie turned with shock. She had barely showed her the house and she was buying it.

"Already?" she said shocked. "I've barely showed you the house."

"I can give you a deposit right now." Svetlana reached into a velvet purse and showed Edie a fistful of gold coins. She stared at the gold, hypnotized…yet, curiously. Nobody had paid her in gold coins before.

"Is that…" she began.

"Real?" Svetlana finished. "Yes, indeed. They're doubloons. Used by Spanish explorers during the 16th century. I inherited them."

Edie's eyes narrowed suspiciously, looking at the veiled woman up and down.

"Who are you?" she asked.

The woman lifted her veil, making sure there was no sunlight around. Edie stared at her, seeing the beautiful youthful face: alabaster skin, violet eyes, and blood lips. An auburn curl lay on her collarbone.

"Oh my GOD!" she said, disgusted and surprised. "You're a _kid!_"

Svetlana only smiled.

"How old are you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Twenty-three."

"Do you have proof?"

"I'm currently waiting for my legalization papers to be finalized."

Edie raised her eyebrows, skeptically. Svetlana held the coins in her gloved hand towards Edie.

"Please. Take this deposit. I'll pay you once my money arrives."

Edie knew that she couldn't sell a house to a minor…well; at least that was what she was. Yet, this was no minor…apparently a rich minor. She had money. Probably lots of it. Money talks.

"Well if you insist," said Edie. "Here's my card if you have any questions." She handed her a business card.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Britt."

They shook hands; Edie shivered and felt all the hairs on her arm stand up. Svetlana's hand was colder than death.

Nobody believed the front page story about a vampire on a plane, but what they didn't know was the dark force had come to their street…

The moving van had all her treasures from the Old World: her books, her jewels, her furniture, her piano and harpsichord, candles, clothes, and of course, her beloved coffin. She placed it down in the basement; she would have to buy a bed to make it look like she slept in it.

Svetlana was not human. She hadn't been human in 400 years. She was a vampire.

She was so thirsty…so thirsty…she almost pounced on that Britt woman, hearing her heart beating and the carotid artery throbbing, beckoning her to take a bite and suck the rich, sweet ambrosia. A mouse skittered across the basement floor. She grabbed it and tore its throat, sucking the blood. It was good.

She knew that she had to lay low for a while after what happened on the plane. She would wait until the storm calmed down to feed on humans again. For now, animals would have to do.

It was risky for her to do such a thing: feed on five people in a tin can that was thousands of feet up in the stratosphere. She always worried that someone would wake up and sees her. The rule was that no mortal was allowed to live if they should find out about vampires.

She knew that the police would never find her. She was nothing but a shadow. The bite marks would be gone by the time the forensics arrived to photograph them.

_Knock. Knock._

Svetlana snapped back to reality. She put her veil over her head to protect it from the dangerous sun. She slowly opened the door and there on the porch stood four women: two red haired women: one with blue eyes holding a basket of rolls and the other with brown eyes holding a basket of lemon squares, a blonde with blue eyes holding a bottle of white wine, and two brunettes; one was a Latina in her early thirties with a box that probably contained something expensive, and the other in her late thirties holding a plant.

"Hello," said the red head. "I'm Bree Hodge. I live down the street. These are my friends. We thought we'd come by and say welcome to the neighborhood."

Svetlana shook hands with the redhead with a gloved hand.

"I'm Lynette Scavo," said the tired looking blonde.

"I'm Susan Mayer," said the older brunette with the plant.

"I'm Gabrielle Solis," said the Latina. "I live across the street."

"I'm Katherine Mayfair," said the other redhead, holding the lemon squares. The first redhead stared with bitterness at her, trying to show her that she made better food than her.

Svetlana shook their hands, reading their thoughts and hearing each of their heartbeats.

"I'm Svetlana Mechitbayeva," she said. "I just moved here from Romania."

The ladies looked very interested, especially when they heard her last name. It was so strange and exotic, just like her.

"How interesting," said Bree.

"I don't mean to be impolite, ladies, but I'm very busy at the moment."

"Of course," said the ladies, understandingly.

"Have a good day."

Svetlana closed the door, locking it behind her. The sun burned her. She _hated_ afternoons; even with all those clothes on, she could feel the fire of the sun's deadly rays burning. She went down the steps of the basement and into her coffin to sleep, planning to rise tonight to feed well. She took out of her bosom a 19th century gold heart shaped locket and opened it to stare at a 16th century painting of a face. It was old and faded, yet the green eyes still stared at her. It was a youthful boy. A blood tear ran down her eye. She spoke to it in her ancient language, stroking the picture lovingly, remembering him…

Edie brought to coins she had been paid to the Fairview Museum. The curator had his eyeglass on the coins, examining them carefully.

"Well?" asked Edie.

"Well," said the curator. "Your friend who gave you these is right. They're authentic 16th century doubloons from Spanish explorers. I don't see why she just gave them away; these things are worth a lot of money."

Edie raised her eyebrows with interest. "How much?"

"Well, what they were worth back then, they're much more today. Probably over a million dollars worth or more."

The sound of that amount rang in Edie's ear. A million dollars or more! That would make her rich.

"This friend of yours just gave you these coins? Why would she do that if she knew they were worth a lot of money."

"I don't know. That's how she paid for her house that I sold her. Maybe she doesn't know the currency in this country. She said she inherited the coins, but she didn't say who."

"Well, how much did the house cost?"

Edie told him.

"Well, would you like to sell these to the museum of Fairview for display?"

"I want the amount of their worth."

The curator smiled: "Of course."

Yes. We all love a new neighbor. We would like to get along with the new and old alike. However, we must be aware of new neighbors. For we do not know what goes on when the door closes…


	3. Episode 3

Episode 3

THE POWER OF MUSIC

Music is a powerful and wonderful tool. It is important to our lives: it calms us down and helps us fall asleep during infancy, helps us recognize things as children, helps us liberate ourselves from society as adolescents, and helps us with memory as we reach seniority.

Svetlana had always been interested in music. As a child, she would watch the musicians in the street, enjoying the colorful sounds. She wished for so long to be involved with music that she finally worked up the courage to ask her mother and father:

"Mama? Papa?"

"Yes?" said Papa, not looking up from his papers.

"I want to play music…like the performers in the street."

Her father, Leonird and her mother, Sonia, looked at each other and then laughed.

"You? Play music?" said Leonird.

"Silly girl, you know music is not proper for young ladies," said Sonia. "You should be thinking about a husband, not music."

Everyday, she wished she could play music…even though she found it pleasing, her parents kept telling her to think about a husband. Any time, she was in the streets with her mother and there was music being played, she would drag her away from it.

At seventeen, the night she was made an immortal, her maker and master, Darius, taught her to play a variety of keyboard instruments: harpsichord, piano, and organ. He was pleased to see that his young, talented pupil could memorize whole concertos, symphonies, even arias from operas from one listening. The two of them traveled all over Europe and Asia: Darius would show off his star pupil to everyone: to music commissioners to the royals, including the Emperor of China. All were very impressed to hear her play: how delicate her fingers moved, slow or fast, when she played.

The reward, of course, was a tasty meal afterward…of upper class flesh and commissioners who didn't approve of the girl's talent…

Since then, Svetlana has always played the harpsichord and piano all her life, enjoying the colorful sounds that pleased her ears. As she sat down in front of her harpsichord, playing every known pieces by every composer from every era that she had lived through: from the 555 harpsichord pieces of Dominico Scarlatti to Bach to Hadyn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Liszt, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Handel, and so forth and so on.

On a fine Saturday afternoon, Svetlana sat down in front of her 300 year old harpsichord and began to play Sonata in D major by Scarlatti.

Outside the house, every resident of Wisteria Lane could hear Svetlana playing the harpsichord, stopping everyone from what they were doing to hear the music: Bree Hodge had stopped gardening, Lynette stopped yelling at their kids and they stopped screaming wildly, Gabrielle stopped doing yoga while arguing with her husband, Carlos and the both of them leaned over the porch to hear, Susan stopped dead in her tracks while she was taking out the trash, and even Edie down the street, who was flirting with a random guy stopped talking. Even Katherine Mayfair stopped cooking a new recipe. Dylan Mayfair and Julie Mayer stopped chatting as well.

Yes. Every resident on Wisteria Lane had stopped to hear this strange, exotic instrument that no one had heard before…not for centuries…yet it seemed so strange to them. They all stood in front of Svetlana's house to listen to the music playing as if in a trance.

Not any of the residence had the nerve to knock on the door to see what was going on. Bree dared herself to move towards the porch steps to the door, lifting a hand to the doorbell and pushed it, making a Westchester Chimes musical sound. The music inside had stopped playing. Soon, a veiled Svetlana opened the door. The whole neighborhood applauded.

"Hello," said Svetlana.

"Hello, Svetlana," said Bree. "Um…was that you playing in there?"

Svetlana gave a smile, beaming, just being careful not to show her fangs.

"Yes. I just sat down for a few minutes to play and I got a bit carried away."

"And what was that you were playing?"

"It's a harpsichord. It's from my country. Europe." She paused. "You want to see? Please come in."

When Bree stepped inside of Svetlana's home, she couldn't help but to stare: the walls had been painted a rich crimson red and there were objects and furniture that came from the 16th century and forward: woven tapestries hanging on the walls, vases from Asia and Greece on the shelves, sofas, chairs and tables from Austria made with real velvet cushions that was finely carved from mahogany wood, silver candelabras on the tables and the fireplace from Spain, lace tablecloths from Italy, paintings from the 16th and 17th centuries, books were lined on the bookshelf from every era, including music on the bottom shelf.

Bree saw a tiny sized piano in the middle of the room. She stared at it with such wonder and awe. Against the wall, there was a modern piano that one would see from an old Western bar.

"Is this a harpsichord?" she asked, pointing to the tiny piano.

"Yes."

"My God! It looks so…antique like it was taken right out of the 18th century."

"It is. It's an authentic 18th century harpsichord all in good condition. Wolfgang Mozart played this harpsichord when he was 8-years-old." (She had remembered watching little 8-year-old Mozart play the harpsichord).

"Oh!" she said with such surprise. "I absolutely love Mozart! He was such a great composer!"

"I do too. He was brilliant."

"So, how did you get this?"

"An auction in Vienna."

"This is so wonderful. Who taught you how to play?"  
"My teacher in Romania. He was very strict, but a wonderful teacher. He knew every piece by every composer known. He could play them with his eyes closed."

"Oh. Play something. I would love to hear it."

"Very well. I shall play you Sonata in D Major, K. 119 by Dominico Scarlatti."

She sat down in front of the harpsichord and played while Bree listened, watching her pale fingers move rapidly, stroking the black keys. She was so impressed by the music; Svetlana didn't even need music to play, she knew it by memory! She clapped when she had finished playing.

"That was wonderful! No, beautiful!" Bree said, delighted. "I'm amazed that you can play without music."

"Thank you." Svetlana smiled.

"Play something else. Only on the piano, but let me guess what it is."

Svetlana read Bree's mind: she loved the opera 'Aida'. Svetlana moved to the piano and played the overture of 'Aida' by Giuseppe Verdi.

"Ummm…" Bree closed her eyes, picturing where she had heard this music. "It sounds very familiar."

"You don't know?"

"No. Please tell me."

"It's the overture from 'Aida'."

" 'Aida'! Oh my God! That's my favorite opera! I haven't seen that in so long." Bree suddenly had an idea. "Say, why don't you throw a dinner party at your house and you could play music? Sort of like a 'welcome to the neighborhood' party."

Svetlana was speechless. What was she going to do? She didn't know how to cook. She was an aristocrat. All the servants did the cooking.

"Well, I don't know how to cook," Svetlana said.

"Leave that all to me."

"No." said an icy voice in the doorway. It was Katherine Mayfair, smiling that icy fake smile. "Leave that to me. I will make all the food."

"Katherine, no one invited you in," Bree said, annoyed that her rival had the nerve to ruin her friendship with her new neighbor.

The two ladies began to bicker over who would make the food. Svetlana only giggled. Humans were such silly creatures.

"Please," said Svetlana. "It's not polite for ladies to argue. In my country, ladies got along with each other, even if they didn't like each other."

Bree and Katherine stared at her; this young lady had manners. Obviously, she had been brought up really well. They were both quite impressed.

"To be quite honest, I really don't care who makes the food. You can both make food, but I will not tolerate any competition in my house. Competition is a man's sport." She paused. "As for me, I shall send out all the invitations to everyone in the neighborhood."

"Good. We'll throw it next weekend at say, six o'clock," said Bree.

"That's fine. But, please. No children under 13. I have antiques and I cannot bear to have them broken."

"That's fine," said Katherine.

Svetlana spent the night making the invitations for everyone in the neighborhood for her dinner party. She felt drained: she hadn't fed enough. She left the house, making sure no one was out…humans never came out at night. All they did was sit in front of the television; eat dinner like pigs until they got fat. Yes. That was the life of humans: eating, sitting in front of TV, shitting, pissing, getting fat and then the cycle began all over again. Thank God she was not a human. Yet, there were times she wished she was human: to have a woman's body, to taste real food again, to make love to a human without the need to feed on them. Nobody wants to make love to a cold, bloodthirsty monster that lived forever.

She went to the park to feed on the nocturnal animals. She grabbed an opossum from the trash, ignoring it deafening squeals and snapping teeth, bit its throat and sucked its blood. The hot gush in her mouth filled her with warmth and life, warming her cold skin. She fed on raccoons, low flying bats, rats, and owls, tossing them aside like they were trash from a human's leftover meal.

Animal blood was not bad, but human blood was the cream of the crop: she didn't have to worry about fur or feathers. However, this was a time to be laying low until the police put the plane incident on the back burners. They were never going to find her…they were just chasing a ghost.

After her feeding, she felt much better and returned to her home to finish her invitations.

One of the articles in the Fairview Tribune the next morning:

_MYSTERIOUS DEATH STRIKES NOCTURNAL ANIMALS. INVESTIGATORS CLUELESS._

_Nocturnal animals were found strewn about in Fair Valley Park this morning. Apparently, their throats had been torn open and blood had been drained. Investigators believe that this is a possible result of a vampire related cult: in the 1980s the cult had participated in rituals of tearing animals throats open and drinking their blood. However, the only difference is the animals' throats had been ripped open with what appear to be teeth while the cult only slashed the throats. Forensic investigators are unable to identify the teeth._

Nobody bothered to read the article in the paper. Yet, nobody knew that a vampire was living right on their street…

By afternoon, every resident on Wisteria Lane had received an invitation to Svetlana's dinner party. The invitation read:

_Dear Residents and Families of Wisteria Lane,_

_You are cordially invited to attend a dinner party_

_At the residence of Svetlana __Mechitbayeva_

_2530 Wisteria Lane, at the hour of six_

_The day of Saturday_

_On the 25__th__ of the month of April _

_Of the year 2006 A.D._

_Please bring your favorite dish and your families_

_Entertainment will be harpsichord and piano playing_

_By the hostess herself_

_RSVP at the address a week before the dinner party_

_Please no children under 13_

"How traditional that girl is," said Bree.

"Why doesn't she just use a phone?" said Gabrielle. "It's so strange that someone would want to RSVP with paper."

"Maybe she doesn't have a phone yet," said Lynette, shrugging. "So, Bree, you got to step inside the new neighbor's house. What is it like?"

Bree told them about all the antiques she had in the house.

"Did you get a good look at her?"

"Not really. She was wearing a veil. I can tell you that she is a brilliant musician. I mean, she played a piece by a composer without music! She has it completely memorized."

Susan, however, was not too sure.

"Don't you think she's a bit odd?" she began.

"What do you mean?" asked Bree, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, ever since she moved here, she never leaves the house…during the day, except to get her mail and paper. And when she does go outside, she's always wearing a veil and big clothes, covering herself."

The ladies all looked at each other. Susan _did_ have a point: why didn't Svetlana go out during the day? And why did she always wear big clothes and a veil when it was daylight?

"Well, she's only been here for two, three weeks," said Lynette. "She must be really busy."

"Too busy to go outside and get fresh air and sunshine?" said Susan, skeptically.

"Maybe she has a night job," suggested Bree. "She probably sleeps all day and works at night."

The other ladies agreed with her, but Susan was still skeptical.

On the night of the dinner party, Bree and Katherine help Svetlana set up; they stared spitefully at one another, but pretended to be nice for the sake of Svetlana. Bree squealed delightfully when she saw the fine china from Italy, the crystal from Ireland, and the antique silver from Spain.

Svetlana felt hungry again…she could see the swelling vein in their wrists; her eye wandering up the pale arms and swollen breasts in a V-neck to the swelling carotid artery in their necks, hearing the heartbeats and their voices fading out…She so desperately wanted to bite those arteries and satisfy her craving for that sticky sweetness she always craved…

"Svetlana?" said Bree's distant voice. "Svetlana?"

"Huh?" she snapped back to reality.

"Is there something wrong? You've been staring at my neck for five minutes."

"Sorry. It's just a lovely neck."

Svetlana was relieved about how fast Bree had forgotten about it.

Night had fallen. Svetlana was in her room, getting dressed for the dinner party. She put on a dark red dress with pearls sewn on the front and the sleeves from the Renaissance era with a corset around her middle, making her waist tiny and her breasts plump. She looked at the scar on her neck from the everlasting kiss that Darius had once given her 400 years ago…twin punctures: the mark, the curse that made her the way she was today, damned to be young forever. She touched the punctures, remembering that fateful night when she became a child of the damned…

She put on a velvet choker that had beads cascade down the front. It was good enough to hide the scar. She also pinned the little gold locket on the front of her dress with the portrait…the painting she had done so long ago…

(my ioan)

She slipped into a pair of satin, beaded Renaissance slippers. Her eyes done with silver eye shadow and mascara (she was still getting the hang of the modern day mascara brush) and blood red lipstick, making her pale skin stand out. Her auburn curls hung loose down her back. She braided it with pearls, velvet and satin ribbons to make herself look like the 17-year-old Svetlana Mechitbayeva from 400 years ago, when she was an upper-class merchant's daughter, a lady already…when she was human.

She saw her own 17-year-old mortal self staring in the mirror with color in her face, blue eyes, milky-white skin…and no fangs. No need to feed on blood. Her mortal image disappeared, becoming nothing but a distant memory. She stared at the same 17-year-old self as she had been 400 years ago. She sighed sadly.

The doorbell rang. Thankfully, Bree answered it. Soon the chatter of voices began to grow as more and more people arrived. She heard Bree call from downstairs:

"Svetlana! The guests are here."

Svetlana felt brave. She closed the bedroom door and slowly went downstairs like she had been taught to walk like an aristocratic lady. Once in sight, everyone stared, whispering about her. She didn't have to know what they were saying, she read their thoughts. They said about how beautiful she looked, questioned why she was dressed like that or why her skin was so pale. She didn't care. She was the most beautiful person in the room.

"Good evening," she said in her lady-like voice. "Thank you for coming tonight. I'm very grateful that you are all welcoming me to your neighborhood, your town, your country. As for me, I'm from a country called Romania."

Everyone nodded interested.

"Why don't you play something, Svetlana?" suggested Bree.

She nodded. "Tonight," she said, turning to the guests. "I shall provide you with entertainment by playing the harpsichord and piano."

She sat at her harpsichord and began to play Scarlatti's harpsichord pieces. When she stroked the shallow black keys with her delicate fingers, it produced short, abrupt tones. Everyone stared at this strange, exotic tiny piano when it made such sounds…music that hadn't been heard for so long. By dinner, she played piano concertos on the piano.

When she played, the room seemed to go silent just to hear the girl play. They were impressed by the way her tiny fingers moved about on the keys; they whispered comments as they drank their wine about how impressive her playing was and wishing they could use her as a piano teacher for their children.

When she finished playing a piece, they applauded while she bowed her head humbly. She stood up after she played Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" and bowed.

"Thank you," she said, humbly. "I believe dinner is served."

There was chatter about Svetlana's playing as they shuffled into the kitchen to eat dinner: Bree's homemade spring lamb with cherry glaze, steamed peas and carrots, tossing salad, red potatoes, and a delicious cheesecake with cherry sauce; all done with perfection. Katherine had made poached salmon.

Svetlana sat down on the velvet sofa to get away from the nauseating smell of human food. She would give anything to have some human blood, but this was not the time to think about feeding. She would wait until everyone was tired and went home.

She read everybody's minds: she saw everyone's scandals and secrets, every bit of dirty laundry that they had inside…

Lynette was a mother of four screaming children, who went from a stay-at-home mom to career woman. Her husband, Tom was a career man who had quit his job because his wife had went to his boss's wife to kill his promotion had become a stay-at-home dad, fired from his job with his wife, and was now opening a pizza parlor. He had a one-night stand with a stripper years before they were married and had a spoiled daughter named Kayla Huntington. Her mother, Nora, was dead from that shooting at the supermarket by a jealous wife who had found out about her husband having an affair. Kayla was horrible to Lynette.

Susan Mayer: divorced. Her ex-husband, Karl, was now dating the neighborhood slut, Edie Britt. Earlier, the two women were competing for Mike Delfino, the friendly neighborhood plumber (who was also here as well at the dinner party). She dated a doctor named Ron, who removed her spleen. Now, she was back with Mike.

Bree Hodge: a widow who had lost her husband about a year ago, she dated the pharmacist, George Williams, whom she got engaged to due to the pressure, yet he showed his true colors: he was an obsessed psychopath who was overly jealous and committed suicide. She was now dealing with two rebellious kids: Andrew and Danielle, which led her through an entire mess with an alcohol addiction and Andrew's attempt to be emancipated, using a fake beating he did to himself to make it look like Bree did it under the influence. Now, she was married to a mysterious dentist named Orson, whose wife had moved into the Applewhite house.

Katherine Mayfair: she had left Wisteria Lane 12 years ago with her daughter, Dylan. She had memory loss. Her new husband, Adam, was a gynecologist and they had moved back to Wisteria Lane for some reason. Dylan couldn't remember anything from the past. Then, there was a bloody axe with Katherine screaming…

Gabrielle Solis: an ex-New York runway model who married a rich businessman, Carlos. Their marriage, of course, was not a happy one. He spoiled his wife with expensive gifts, yet still it didn't help them. Gabrielle was cheating on him with her gardener…who it should be…

(that face! Oh! Green eyes. Dark hair)

"Ioan," she whispered. A blood tear fell from her violet eye, remembering that painful memory from long ago…

Realizing that her eye was wet, she wiped it away quickly, knowing that no one should know who she truly was. She was in a room full of mortals: she could've had a meal with all those mortals in her home, but decided that she couldn't let her true colors show. She got up from the sofa and went to the piano to play for a while, to take her mind off of her thirst. That insatiable thirst. She looked around the room at her party and thought a few would make good vampires. She was 400 years old. She never made a vampire before, but knew how it was done.

Bree Hodge would make a perfect vampire: her blue eyes, porcelain skin, and red hair. She was absolutely flawless.

Perhaps, she should start on a younger person, just to test it. There was a room full of young people that would make good vampires: Bree's daughter, Danielle and her son, Andrew. Susan's daughter, Julie. Edie's nephew, Austin. The millionaire youth, Zach Young. The Solis's maid, Xiao Mei. Katherine's daughter, Dylan. And of course, the gardener.

She ran her tongue over her fangs, back and forth, craving flesh. She played Franz Lizst's Hungarian Rhapsody in C minor; her fingers played fast, almost stroking the keys. As her thirst grew, her playing became faster…faster…faster…and faster…

People stared wide eyed and amazed as she played; her fingers played at a suicidal speed that they were almost a blur. She heard mingle of beating hearts of the mortals in her hearts and her own beating heart at the speed and force of a jack hammer.

By the last chords, she slumped over with exhaustion while the room burst with applause. Svetlana felt light-headed and hungry; she bowed and went into the bathroom to wipe off the blood sweat. She felt so thirsty…she needed a _delicious_ blood meal…

"Are you all right, Svetlana?" asked Bree, outside the door.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just tired. I need to freshen up."

She wiped off all the blood sweat and flushed the paper towels down the toilet.

Feeding off of animals wasn't good enough that she had to risk feeding off of a human. How was she supposed to survive? Being a vampire was a hard life: apart from killing mortals and living forever, the worst was the loneliness and the boredom of immortality. Having no one to love you because what you are: Svetlana was a killer and would always be a killer for as long as she lived, no matter how hard she tried to be normal and resist. Mortals were afraid of vampires since they fed on them; but they didn't understand what it was like to be her. It would be nice if somebody understood how she felt.

The night she became a vampire, just a few months in her marriage to a rich merchant partner of her father's and witnessing her lover's death, she realized how lonely she was. Darius, her maker, was a great mentor, teacher, friend, and a father, but it wasn't the same. He offered her young boys her age to make a companion for her. She just tore at their throats and refused for anymore boys. She would never love anyone but Ioan.

The dinner party began to slow down until it was only the five ladies: Bree, Gabrielle, Katherine, Lynette, and Susan. They stayed and offered to help Svetlana clean up. She thanked them for having a good time and when they complimented her playing. After everyone had gone, she waited until everyone was settled into bed and went out to hunt for another blood meal.

Yes. Music is very important to us. For the health, for the soul, and for finding our identity. Yet, music can consume us in a good way or bad way. Yes, beware of the music that consumes you. For you may never escape it.


	4. Episode 4

Episode 4

EVERY DAY A LITTLE DEATH

Death had come once again to Wisteria Lane. First, by Mary Alice's suicide and then Martha Huber's murder. Word of tragedy would soon spread throughout the neighborhood. For now, people would go about their lives as they always did, blissfully unaware. However, this death was in a form of a monster that lived on Wisteria Lane…

A week after Svetlana's neighborhood dinner party, people noticed something strange about their new neighbor: she was hardly seen during the day. She was always up at all hours of the night. She rarely left the house. She would only be up in the day to get her mail or newspaper, dressed head to toe in heavy clothes or with an umbrella over her head. There were times during the day where she would be sitting on the porch, reading a book or inside playing the piano or harpsichord. People found Svetlana to be strange with her unusual routine, yet they assumed that she was just a foreigner who wasn't accustomed to the American way of living.

The only one who had doubts about Svetlana was Susan. She was convinced that there was something strange about her. Her skin was too white to be considered normal. Her eyes…she didn't get a good look at them, but she was certain that they were not a normal eye color. And the way her lips pouted outward like she was trying to hide something in her mouth. She tried to tell her friends about Svetlana's oddness, yet they didn't seem to believe her.

"Honestly," said Susan. "I think Svetlana's hiding something."

"Like what?" asked Katherine.

"Well, did you see how white her skin was? It was too white. Almost the color of marble."

"Now that you say that," said Gabrielle. "I noticed it too." She paused. "And how flawless it is. Not even a pimple or a dry patch. I'm absolutely jealous of her."

"Could you not think about yourself for a second, Gabby?" Susan said, annoyed. She hated when she talked only about herself. "And how about her eyes? Did anyone see them?"  
The ladies shook their heads.

"I mean, why does she stay in that house all day? Ever since she moved here, she has not once foot out of the house."

"Well, maybe she's still shy about living in America," said Bree.

"For a month? And she never talks to anyone," continued Susan. "I mean, I didn't see a phone in her house at all. Not even a cell phone or computer."

"Maybe she likes to live a traditional life," suggested Katherine.

"And her curtains are always drawn all day."

"Maybe she wants to keep Peeping Toms from peeping in," said Lynette. "But having them drawn during the day, that's odd."

"About the social need, I'll see to it that she joins us for poker," said Bree.

"Well, invite her if you must, Bree, but honestly, I think that girl is strange," said Susan.

What they didn't know was Svetlana could _never_ go out in the sun ever again. On the very night, she was made an immortal, her maker, Darius told her:

"We are creatures of the night. The sun and fire are our enemies."

There were times that she wished she could play in the sunlight; enjoying the warm rays. She saw her six-year-old self, her auburn hair blowing through the warm spring wind, running through a green field with wildflowers, laughing and smiling with pink cheeks, sitting in the grass in a lovely dress and a corset, and picking wildflowers for Mama.

Slowly, that memory faded until the little girl she once was nothing but a ghostly figure. Her own reflection in the window: a 17-year-old bloodthirsty killer with a pair of fangs.

(damned I am damned forever damned to hell)

She sighed. Apart from staying out of the sunlight forever, the worst thing about being a vampire was the loneliness and boredom. Often vampire companions left because they changed…got bored and wanted to do new things. She wished she could have a companion…a lover…someone who would want to be with her forever. If _only_ her Ioan was alive…

Darius had left her as well. The day she and Darius parted ways was painful once he had left. When he left, she was consumed by loneliness.

She sat down at her piano and began to play Puccini's 'Che gelida manina' from his opera, "La Bohème". The aria brought a blood tear to her eye; it landed on the ivory key creating a red dot. The aria reminded her of how she was once human with warm flesh. Her flesh was too cold…and how lonely she was, bored with her immortal life. The aria reminded her of Ioan sometimes. She wished he was alive…perhaps this is what he would think if he found out she was now a vampire.

Blood tears…eternal pain…a forever broken heart…

Bree walked across the street; she could hear the sounds of a piano playing inside. She knocked. The piano stopped playing and a Slavic voice replied, "Coming!"

It took her about three minutes until Svetlana finally answered the door. She had her veil drawn over her head.

"Hello, Svetlana," Bree said, cheerfully.

"Bree," she said. "How wonderful to see you. It's been a while. Can I help you?"

"Yes, Svetlana. I wanted to know if everything was OK. You haven't left the house since you moved in."

"I'm fine," she replied.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I brought you the receipt for the lamb I made." She handed her the index card.

"Thank you."

There was a long pause.

"Oh, and I also wanted to ask if you wanted to join us for our weekly poker game. We have it every Tuesdays. I thought I'd invite you over since you seemed so distant."

"Really?" she said, interested. "I'd love to."

"Great. We're all meeting at Lynette's. It's the second house down the street."

"I'll be there in a minute. Don't start without me."

Svetlana closed the door. Bree went to Lynette's house to announce that she was definitely coming. Svetlana soon arrived dressed in a black overcoat, gloves, a veil over her head, sunglasses on her eyes. She looked for a seat away from the sunlight...she needed to be away from that sun. She could feel the deadly rays burning her already.

"Is something wrong, Svetlana?" asked Katherine, seeing that she was moving away from the sunlight.

"It's nothing," she said calmly. "I'm fine."

"I'm so glad you could join us," said Bree. "You do know how to play poker, do you?"

"Of course," she said, quietly. "My father used to play it all the time."

"Do you want coffee?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Well, while we play, gossip is encouraged," said Bree. "Why don't you take off your veil since you're inside?"

"Of course," she said.

She lifted her veil over her head and took off her sunglasses; it hung off a hair clip that was attached to an elegant bun. The ladies stared in awe at the young woman: her skin was so white and her face was like a statue that not even Michelangelo could carve and her eyes were cast downward.

"Wow," said Gabrielle. "I didn't realize how…young you are."

"Thank you."

(well of course I'm young. I'm 416 years old with the body of a 17-year-old)

"How old did you say you were?"

"Twenty-three."

"Really? You look seventeen."

"Appearances can be deceiving, am I right?"

Gabrielle smiled. "And how did you get such flawless skin? What is your secret?"

Svetlana gave a little smile as she glanced upward with her violet eyes.

"I guess I was born with it," she replied.

"I've never noticed your eyes before," said Susan. "They're so pretty. Are they contacts?"

Svetlana raised an eyebrow, confused. She had never heard of that word before, but quickly pretended to know what it meant.

"Yes," she said. "They are."

"What color are your eyes?" asked Susan, suspicious.

Svetlana, sensing that she was going to keep asking her questions until she confirmed her suspicions, used her Dark Gift to make her believe her.

"Blue," she replied. "In certain light, they look violet."

"Oh," said Susan. "They're such…lovely eyes."

While she sat there, quietly, playing poker with the ladies, she read their minds: she knew what they had behind those cards. Humans were fools; with her Dark Gift, she could read them like a book. She knew what they were thinking, use her gift to blank them out, daze their minds, charm them, and even make them believe whatever she said.

She sat very quietly, listening to the ladies chat away like magpies in a tree. Their voices were too loud and they often talked about dirt on other people. Svetlana was taught to never speak ill of anyone. She was also taught that ladies were to either be silent when men were in the room and to speak no louder than a whispering wind. She had to be submissive to any male that was in the room.

That was the life of a 16th century aristocratic lady.

"Svetlana," said Lynette. "You haven't said anything so far. Do you have any juicy gossip?"

"Oh," said Svetlana, quietly. "I never speak ill of anyone."

They all raised their eyebrows; her words were so different, so old fashioned, so…elegant and polite and lady like.

"I'm very impressed," said Bree. "Your parents must've raised you well."

"They did," she said.

"So, tell us about yourself. We barely got to talk to you at the dinner party."

Svetlana smiled, using her Dark Gift to fool them into believing her.

"My parents were very rich and fine-mannered," she said. "They always said to respect everyone, no matter who they are or what their reputation was."

"Ah," said Bree. "What wonderful parents you must've had! What was it like to grow up in Romania?"

"It's a beautiful country," she said. "I lived in the countryside: my home was a large estate with beautiful flowers and green fields. My father was a…well, like a merchant…"

"Businessman?" said Katherine.

"Yes. His company prospered for a long time. That's how he became very rich. We lived in luxury with fancy things."

They said nothing, amazed about how a person could speak so beautifully. Her voice was a silver soprano.

"May I ask you a question?" said Katherine.

Svetlana smiled, mused. "Absolutely."  
"Whenever we see you, you look like you're dressed like you're keeping the sun out. And your curtains are always drawn. What's going on with that?"

Svetlana was mused. She blanked out her mind.

"I'm sorry, what was the question?" she asked.

"I…uh…never mind. I lost my train of thought."

During the poker game, Svetlana looked at each of the ladies' necks, seeing the throbbing jugular and hearing the beat of each heart. Her thirst grew…she had to resist. It was hard enough living in the human world, especially during the day when that was the only time everything functioned, but she had gotten used to it after 200 years. She shook it off. She would feed later.

They kept playing poker. She won every match: having the Dark Gift was great. She could read all their minds and knew what cards they had. Svetlana smiled again as she won again.

"I think you're bluffing," said Lynette.

"Perhaps I am," she said, smiling as she gathered all the money.

She won the next match. The ladies had lost all their money to her. She won every match.

"Well, ladies, thank you for a wonderful time. I hope to join the next poker game."

The ladies stared at her and at each other in amazement. How did a young woman beat _all _of them at poker at _every _hand?

"It's on Tuesday," said Bree.

"I'm in."

Svetlana placed her money in her little purse, smiling. She had fooled them all, smiling.

As soon as she left, they began to talk about her. Svetlana listened with her preternatural hearing.

"Did you see that?" said Susan.

"She won _every_ match," said Gabrielle.

"She's amazing," said Lynette. "She's an amazing bluffer."

"I will say this," said Bree. "She's the most elegant lady I've ever met. I'm so jealous of her. I thought I was perfect…turns out I stand corrected."

Later that night, Ida Greenburg was carrying a large bottle of liquor, walking down the street, drunk out of her mind. She had tried quitting for so long, but couldn't. Then, one night, out of despair, she challenged God to quench her never-ending thirst. Sadly for Ida, someone's never-ending thirst was going to be satisfied…

There was a rustle in the trees. Ida looked up in the sky, wondering where it came from. Sadly she didn't see this coming. A pale face with hungry fangs jumped on her and grabbed her and pulled her up into the sky. Her screaming was silenced while the creature fed…

There was a poster on every light post on Wisteria Lane:

_MISSING_

_Ida Greenburg_

_Age: Late 60s-70s_

_Female, Caucasian_

_Last seen: April 2006_

_If you have any information regarding this missing person, please call Fairview Police_

Night had settled in. Svetlana had risen from her coffin, hungry. She would feed tonight. Animals were just not enough. She hated all that fur and feathers in her mouth. She had already risked feeding out in the open. She needed to be more careful about how she fed. She thought of all the places she could feed on humans…but out in the open was not a good idea. Where would be a good place to feed? A place where humans were always was dying…

She stood in front of Sacred Heart Hospital. Hospitals were perfect places to feed: people were sick with terminal illnesses or in comas that they would never come out of or elderly people dying from illnesses. It happened all the time.

She went through the front door, making sure there was no one in sight. Video cameras were nothing since vampires didn't appear in photographs. She smiled.

As she made her way to the reception, the night nurse, Ruth Ann Heisel came to the desk. She smiled. She was easy. She moved so silently and fast that she wouldn't even know she was there.

She went to the geriatrics ward. People were _always_ dying there. She went to the first room, lowered the volume of the EKG machine so there would be no noise and sank her razor sharp fangs into the sleeping patient's jugular, tasting the hot burst of blood on her tongue.

Nurse Heisel went to check on the geriatrics ward. Every single machine had a flat line. She screamed and pulled the emergency chord…bloody twin punctures in every neck of the patients…

A full, satisfied Svetlana walked out of the hospital, licking her lips.

Today's Fairview Tribune headlines:

_MYSTERIOUS DEATHS AT SACRED HEART HOSPITAL IN GERIATRICS WARD_

The coroner collected the bodies of the deceased and the police questioned the night staff.

"Nurse Heisel," asked Detective Sullivan. "Did you see anything strange last night?"

"No."

Detective Sullivan turned to his colleagues, puzzled. Nobody saw anything?!

"Get the surveillance tapes. See if there's anything unusual."

Detective Ryan went to collect the surveillance tapes from the security room with the guard, Howard Gilbert.

"Can we see the hours before the deaths, possibly midnight and forward? The entrance and geriatrics ward halls?"

"Sure."

The tapes were rewound to midnight. Detective Sullivan came to see the surveillance after he questioned the staff. They watched the tape on the 12 inch screen of black and white. Nothing.

Soon, the door opened…slowly…all by itself!

"What the hell?" Detective Sullivan whispered, narrowing his eyes.

There was nothing after that. Nothing in the geriatrics ward…until the door opened by itself again.  
"Dust those handles," said Sullivan.

"But, sir," said his colleague Ryan. "There's no one there."  
"Dust them anyway!"

He left hastily. Sullivan kept watching the tapes. The last part was the front door opening by itself.

"Let me ask you this," said Sullivan. "How the fuck could you miss that? How come you didn't see anything? What were you doing not watching the monitors? Taking a break? Watching a basketball game? What exactly were you doing that you didn't see this?!"

Howard felt like he was sinking lower and lower. He shrugged.

"Sorry. But I swear to you I was here the whole time."

"I don't think you were," said Sullivan, skeptically.

Howard was speechless. He always did his job well, watched the monitors until his shift was over, took breaks when someone covered for him and not once did he slip into temptation to watch the game or something else. Yet, there were times when nothing happened and he was bored that he did slip into temptation. He was watching the Knicks game.

"I want those tapes," said Sullivan.

"Yea, sure."

"What's going on here?" demanded a voice in the back. It was the manager of the hospital, Mr. Steinberg. He was a bald, fat man with glasses in a black suit, blue shirt and a grey tie. He was confused.

"We're investigating a series of murders," said Sullivan. "That occurred on the geriatrics ward."

"Murders? What are you talking about?"

He gave the patients' names, races, age, etc. "They're all dead."

"Sir," said one of his colleagues.

"Yes?"

He held up a pillow with a gloved hand. On it was a smear of blood.

"Bag it. Take it to evidence at the lab."

He nodded.

_Fairview County Police Station and Crime Lab_

Sullivan was disappointed with the results: no fingerprints on the door handles and the blood smear were a match to the victim.

He went to the coroner who was examining the bodies.

"Do we have a cause of death?" asked Sullivan.

"Anemic exsanguination," said the coroner. "Yet, here's the odd thing: all of the patients have a pale appearance and a low red blood count."

"Where did they bleed out?"

"That's the other strange thing: there are no punctures, cuts, slices, not even a bruise on the bodies. They're in perfect condition. I used a UV light. Nothing. How did they bleed out? I don't know."

"But, if they bled out, how did a blood smear end up on the pillow if there are no marks on the body?"  
The coroner shrugged.

"So, we've got an invisible killer who murders his victims, bleeding them to death…but there's no marks on the body indicating they were bled out, then how did blood end up on the pillow? How does the killer make himself invisible? And how does he drain his victims to death leaving no trace?"

Death is inevitable. It is a promise made to us at birth. But before that promise is kept, we all hope something will happen to us: whether it is the thrill of romance, the joy of raising a family, or the anguish of great loss. We all hope to experience something that makes our lives meaningful. But the sad fact is, not all lives have meaning. Some people spend their time sitting on the sidelines waiting for something to happen before it's too late.


	5. Episode 5

Episode 5

SECRET LOVER

Everyone falls in love. There comes a time in a person's life when they fall in love. You meet someone that is nice. You go out as friends…soon, your feelings begin to grow stronger for that person. That's when you realize that you have fallen in love.

Yes. Everyone falls in love.

However, not everyone falls in love…

Svetlana was in love. Once, a long time ago…however, it was forbidden. When her lover died, she vowed never to love again. His name was Ioan: with black hair, green-hazel eyes, a smile that made her melt like the snow in the spring, golden skin, a voice that was so kind, and strength that was strong like a lion.

Yet, when he died, her love died. When she married Pytor Karkorov, her father's partner in his mercantile business, it was the unhappiest day of her life.

Svetlana kept her vow to never love again for 400 years. But that was about to change…very soon…

Svetlana put on her veil and gloves, carrying a parasol in her hand to protect herself from the sun's deadly rays, she went out to get her mail. She began to remember love letters that she and her lover, Ioan would exchanged. She was friendly with the servants and they gladly delivered her letters to Ioan secretly while her unsuspecting parents and future husband remained unaware.

She would wait for a letter the next day and her maid, Sofya, delivered it secretly. Svetlana would spend all hours of the night, sitting by candlelight in her vast room, reading the sweet words of love from him, hearing his voice as she read word after word; her head swam with love, sighing in a lovesick manner.

Her secret love letters were suddenly intercepted by her father when he intercepted a letter from the maid. He and her mother took their daughter to their sitting room and scolded her for having an affair with a boy who was a peasant. She had no future with him. If she were to marry someone like _that_, the family would have no money. If Svetlana married Pytor, the family business would double.

But, still it didn't stop her from seeing her beloved Ioan. They would wait until night when everyone was asleep and meet in the garden, exchanging words of love…

The day ended when her beloved was taken away from her…God had snatched Ioan away and carried him up to Heaven.

Her love letters were burned by her parents, making her promise to never tell her future husband about her affair with a peasant.

Her past faded into the present. She was alone. Though her love letters and lover were gone, they still remained in her memory forever. She knew she couldn't bring back the past. She would just have to remember it. How wonderful memories were.

She looked at the Solis' house, seeing that the gardener was there for only a second…until she saw a very familiar face…

She stared at the young man on the Solis' lawn, trimming the hedges and the first word that came to her lips was:

_Ioan!_

_No!_ It couldn't be! It was 400 years ago. Ioan died. He was dead. Now, he was standing not two feet away from her. Suddenly, a very familiar sensation returned to Svetlana that she hadn't felt in 400 years. It had been years since she fell in love. She stared, frozen in her spot, watching every move he made, studying his features. Her heart fluttered like the wings of a butterfly, thought she was cold, her blood heated up and she felt warm.

Her memory played a series of pictures inside of when she was with him: his golden body, his rough hands, green eyes, his smile…the way he touched her cheek as he brushed an auburn lock, how he held her hand as they ran through the fields of the Romanian countryside, that kiss…how she melted when she had her first kiss.

She stood rooted to that spot, staring at the young man that looked like her Ioan. She knew that for 400 years for keeping her vow of devotion to him, promising to never fall in love again, she was already falling in love.

The young man went to the wheelbarrow to put the cut branches of bushes in it when he saw the young woman staring at him. Funny, she had been staring at him since she went to get her mail and she remained as still as a statue. He looked her over for a minute: the veil over her face, her hands covered with gloves; funny she was wearing this stuff on a warm spring day and had a parasol over her. She would be beautiful if he could just see her face…

He waved and smiled.

Svetlana's heart gave a leap. He noticed her! She had never been so happy. The man had seen her! Yet why did something seem not right? Perhaps this man _wasn't_ Ioan from 400 years ago. She had some idea that the man she was looking at wasn't her love, yet he _was_ a spitting image of him.

She waved back, longing to talk to him, yet at the same time, afraid to make a fool of herself. She wanted him so bad! To taste his flesh! His blood!

Soon, Gabrielle Solis came out of her goldenrod house in her expensive designer outfit and shoes. As she passed the young man, she ran her fingers across his back. He turned to look at Gabrielle, his eyes filled with love. He was in love with her.

Svetlana felt her blood boil with jealous rage, digging her long fingernails into her palms, drawing blood and her fangs dug into her bottom lip, also drawing blood, tasting it. She felt no pain as the two dug into her flesh. Anyone who dared touch this man deserved to die.

_And they all died_ All who killed her beloved. Ioan.

She shook it off and the wounds made by her nails and fangs healed with the blink of an eye. She concentrated with her Dark Gift…

(ioan)

A voice whispered in his head. Who was Ioan? Certainly not him. It was a female voice. A young, silver soprano. He shook it off. He supposed the heat of the sun was making him hear voices. Suddenly, he felt something touch his back; it felt like cold silk. He shivered and turned to see that the veiled woman was standing right behind him. How did she go from her mailbox all the way to where he was? And how did he not hear her?

"Hello," she whispered; her voice was a silvery soprano.

"Hi," he replied.

He could see the outlines of her face beneath the veil. She lifted her veil to reveal a beautiful, pale china doll with violet eyes.

Svetlana closed her eyes. She loved the sound of his voice. It was like velvet caressing her skin. She remembered that voice from so long ago.

"May I ask question?" she said.

"Sure."

Svetlana just stared at him up and down; she remembered just how he looked. Those green eyes. How she fell in love with those eyes. The first thing she noticed.

"Well?" he asked.

"Sorry. I was just trying to remember what I was going to ask. You garden, right?"

"That's what I do."

"Would you garden for me? I'd like to hire you. I just noticed that you do such a good job in the Solis' garden."

"Sure."

"How much do you charge an hour?"

"$20 an hour."

Svetlana smiled. She reached into her pocket and showed him a huge wad of $100 bills.

"I can pay you more."

The young man's eyes widened at the sight of $100 bills. At first, he wasn't too sure.

"Are you sure? That seems like a lot of money."

"I'm very rich," she said, smiling. "Even richer than the Solis's. I can afford anything." She kept smiling. "When are you available?"

"Thursdays."

"Good. I would like you to mow my lawn once a week. As for my garden, check it when you mow my lawn and tend to it when it needs to be."

"Sure."

"Great. I'll see you Thursday. By the way, what was your name?"

"John Rowland."

Ah! John! Ioan. It sounds just like it.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Svetlana. It's just Svetlana."

They shook hands. John felt the hair on his arms stand up when he shook that cold, little hand.

On Thursdays, Svetlana would stare out the bedroom window, watching John mow her lawn. She listened to his heartbeat. She wished she could make him hers forever. She wanted him. It was so long since she had fallen in love with him.

She played her piano and played 'Che gelida manina' by Puccini; him asking her in the darkness like Rodolfo asking Mimi to tell him all about herself. And her aria: 'Si, mi chiamano Mimi'.

(you are my rodolfo and i will be your mimi)

Her fingers stroked the keys with her right hand and pressed the A major chords that produced beautiful notes and chords. She imagined herself as Mimi and John as Rodolfo, sitting together in the darkness of an attic, pretending to look for a lost key, her candle snuffed out, his hand warming up her cold little hand, the moon shining through the window.

She wanted him...forever.

She got up from the piano to her room. She found a heart-shaped glass pendant in her jewelry box. She opened the silver top and used her fang to cut the flesh of her finger. Drops of blood fell into the opening, falling in dime sized drops. Blood in a pendant meant that her soul belonged to him.

She placed it in a velvet box with a note.

John went to his truck to find a dark blue velvet box sitting in the front seat of his truck along with a flawless blood red rose with a black satin ribbon tied to the stem. An old piece of parchment lay on the top of it. He opened it and it read:

_John, _

_Our souls belong together forever. _

_Loving you from afar, your secret admirer_

John raised an eyebrow. He opened the box and inside was a heart-shaped glass pendant on a velvet string with...oh! to his horror, blood. He shuddered in disgust. The sight of blood made him shudder.

He tossed the box in the glove compartment, hoping to never look at it again. Who would send him such a gift? Probably some sick person who had a crush on him.

John drove to his little house that he had moved into with his fiancée. He sighed. He couldn't help but think of that strange little gift that was left in his truck today. Yet, he couldn't get Gabrielle or Svetlana out of his mind. Ah! How he couldn't choose between those three women: however, that Svetlana was so beautiful: flawless, perfect, and youthful. She had this eternal youth.

"Poodle?" said his fiancée, Tammy Sinclair. "What is this?" She held up the blue velvet box.

"Uhh…some sicko left it in my truck. You can throw it away."

Tammy threw the box in the trash along with the rose and the parchment.

That night while she was asleep, he dug out the box and the rose. He smelled it. It smelled so sweet…like Gabrielle…yet, Svetlana has that sweet rose smell. He hid the box and the rose in the safe where he liked to keep things that he didn't want Tammy to see: inside it was a photo of Gabrielle and other forbidden things he kept in there.

A blood tear fell from Svetlana's eye when she looked through John's window. How much it both hurt and felt good that John might have feelings for her…

It is impossible to grasp just how powerful love is: it can sustain us through trying times or motivate us to make extraordinary sacrifices, it can force the decent to commit the darkest deeds or compel the ordinary to search for hidden truths, and long after we're gone, love remains burned into our memories. We all search for love, but some of us, after we have found love, wish we never had found it.


	6. Episode 6

Episode 6

Beautiful Girls

Gabrielle Solis was the most beautiful woman on Wisteria Lane. Every woman envied her: her perfect hair, flawless body, her expensive designer clothes, shoes, and jewelry, her rich husband, and big house filled with expensive furniture. Men would stare at her whenever she was around: at the mall, cruising around in her Masarati, jogging, doing yoga on her front porch, or just getting her mail.

Yes. Gabrielle Solis was the most beautiful woman on Wisteria Lane...that was, until today...

As Gabrielle got ready to go for her jog, she heard a series of high-pitched giggles coming from next-door. To her disgust and horror, she saw Svetlana, holding a parasol over her head, a gloved hand over her mouth, flirting with two young, handsome joggers.

"You're the _hottest_ girl I've ever seen," said the blond jogger.

"Oh! You flatter me with such things," she said, giggling.

"You have nice eyes," said the brunette.

She giggled. "Ah, so do you."

Gabrielle scoffed, disgusted. She was such a _flirt!_

Gabrielle kept staring out the window during the weekly poker games, annoyed that Svetlana was still flirting with the two joggers.

"What are you looking at?" asked Lynette.

"Did you see Svetlana today?" said Gabrielle. "She is an absolute flirt. I saw her flirting with two joggers this morning. God! I can't stand that stupid giggle she makes...she's like a lovesick schoolgirl."

"Why does that bother you?" asked Bree.

"It doesn't bother me. It annoys me." Gabrielle retorted.

"I think it does bother you. You're just used to men staring at you when you go jogging. Could it be possible that...you're a wee bit..." Katherine said.

"What? Jealous?" Gabrielle laughed a faux laugh. "I'm _not_ jealous! I just can't stand her annoying behavior!"

"Gabby, you're a terrible liar," said Susan. "But I think it's because you used to be the young one in the neighborhood and now that someone younger has moved in, perhaps you feel a bit threatened by her because..."

"What?! Is it because I'm old?" Gabrielle snapped. She _hated _hearing about how old she was.

"I didn't say that."

"You were going to, weren't you?"

"I'm sorry, but..."  
"I'm NOT threatened by Svetlana! I don't care if she's younger than me. I just can't stand her being such a flirt...flaunting it like she's some proud peacock."

The other ladies just shrugged in a 'whatever you say' manner.

Gabrielle continued to watch her. She saw to her horror that she lead them inside her house. She scoffed again, disgusted.

What they didn't know was why she was flirting with them...

"Drinks?" asked Svetlana, smiling.

They nodded, mumbling thank you as she disappeared into the kitchen, listening to them talk with her preternatural hearing about her: how hot she was, her breasts, wondering what her legs looked like, what she looked like naked...

She only smiled and opened her cabinet and took out a large bottle that was old fashioned with a crumbling paper label that said one word: _Absinthe_. She took out a silver triangular absinthe spoon and placed a sugar cube on the spoon. The spoon was 200 years old; she had stolen it from one of her many victims when she was in Paris. She poured the green liquid on the sugar cube, which melted and became a bright green. She came out holding a tray and served them their drinks.

"What's this?" asked the blonde.

"A special drink from my country," she replied. "It's called _Le Fée Vert._"

They chugged it foolishly. She used her Dark Gift to weaken their minds, smiling.

"More?"

They nodded.

She made another round of drinks and they drank. The room began to tilt and rock; the paintings on the walls began to move and dance. Svetlana only smiled, knowing they were drunk.

She leaned towards them; her bosom peeked over the top of her corset. They stared at her breasts; they were full and ripe as peaches.

"Do you desire me?" she purred, untying the stays of her corset and dropped it on the floor. Her breasts hung loose beneath her chemise and the nipples were hard, twin pearls.

They nodded, stupidly.

She turned to the brunette jogger, straddling him and rubbing her core onto his erection, tempting him. He pushed chemise down her back, exposing her ripe, luscious breasts. He cupped it and placed his mouth on the pale pink nipple. It was so soft like satin, yet it was so cold. The brunette leaned towards her lips to kiss them, but she dodged his lips and went straight to his neck. He gasped as her cold lips touched his flesh; he felt her lock her lips around his neck, sucking...

The warm gush of blood filled Svetlana's mouth and she sucked hard until he fell limp into her arms. She let him fall, making it look like he had passed out. She turned her attention to the blond jogger.

"I don't think your friend will be having anymore drinks," said Svetlana.

"He's a light-weight anyway," said the blond. "He passed out when we were playing beer pong after only three drinks."

"Ah, I see." She didn't know what beer pong was, but pretended to anyway.

"He thinks he's such a hot-shot. He can talk the talk, but can't walk the walk. He thinks he can score more chicks than I can."

Svetlana still didn't understand what he was talking about, but kept playing along.

"Truth be told, he's awful in bed."

"And how do you know this?"

"The chicks he slept with told me...after I slept with them..." he laughed drunkenly.

"Ah."

"Of all the girls I've hooked up with, you're the hottest."

"Ah! You flatter me. You're too kind."

He grabbed her breast, ran his left hand up her thigh, inching closer to the core between her legs. Svetlana took his finger and began to suck; white electricity traveled to every nerve in his body, exciting him.  
"You like?" she asked, coyly.

"Mmm-hmm," he nodded.

She kept licking his finger and bit.

"OW!" he yelped.

Scarlet liquid flowed from a wound on his finger.

"Jeez, a little bit gentler, Vampira," he said, smiling.

Strangely, she took his finger and started sucking on his bloody finger.

"OK!" he said, pushing her away. "Look, you're obviously hot and all, but I'm not into that."

She raised her eyebrows and only smiled. "Why?"

"Because…that's just…well, just weird…not to mention disgusting. And I'm leaving." He turned to his friend to shake him awake until he saw bloody punctures on his neck. He stared in horror at his dead friend and her. "You _freak!_ What did you do?"

She only smiled, revealing razor sharp fangs. "What I'm about to do to you," she said.

She grabbed him and pinned him down with a strength that was too strong for him and bit his neck, finishing him off. After gorging herself with jogger's blood, she decided to take a nap. The adrenalin in their blood had made it even sweeter than ever and it made her sleepy.

New signs were posted the next day:

_MISSING_

_Alex Miranda. 25. Male, Hispanic. Missing since 5/7/06._

_Doug Lane. 26. Male. Caucasian. Missing since 5/7/06._

On Thursday, it was a hot afternoon in May. Svetlana promised to take a nap once she finished staring at John, her gorgeous gardener.

She read his thoughts: there was the one-year affair with Gabrielle Solis. Another with an older woman named Joan Woods; she was 41! Now, he was engaged to a young, rich girl named Tammy Sinclair. Svetlana's blood boiled with jealousy; she wanted John all to herself.

She sat at her harpsichord and played Scarlatti's Sonata in D Major, K. 119. She closed the cover, sighing a bored sigh. She went to her antique record player and took out a record, blowing the dust off it. It had been sitting there for almost 200 years. The last time she had played it was too long ago. The label revealed the title: _Musica di G. Puccini: La Bohème._ It was her favorite opera: she had seen it when it first came out in 1896. Her favorite arias were the ones with Rodolfo and Mimì's love medley towards the beginning: _Che gelida manina_, _Sì, mi chiamano Mimì_, and _O soave fanciulla_. Rodolfo, the poet and Mimì, the seamstress, sitting in a cold little attic together in the darkness on Christmas Eve, looking for her key that she dropped and Mimì coming to his attic, asking for a match to light her candle since it was blown out. Him, taking Mimì's cold little hand, warming it, singing...telling her about himself and then, begging her to tell him about herself.

Her...

(sì, mi chiamano mimì)

Revealing about her hunger for flowers and the warmth of springtime. Then the two of them bursting into an ecstatic outpouring of love.

(o soave fanciulla ah tu sol commandi amor sei mia v'aspettan gli amici gia mi mandi via se venissi con voi che mimì che freddo fuori vi staro vicino dame mi bracchio mia piccina obedeisso signore io t'amo)

(my john my ioan my rodolfo and i am your svetlana your mimì)

She placed the vinyl record on the player, turning the crank, sliding the sharp needle onto the smooth black vinyl. The overture began to play and Svetlana opened the windows and closed the drapes. Music filled the room and it made Svetlana sleepy...she laid on the love seat with a soft, velvet cushion...

John trimmed the hedges, hearing what sounded like opera coming from inside. He was really thirsty from the heat and work. He opened the front door, hearing the singing coming from the living room. It was so dark in the house; all the drapes were drawn.

(why so dark?)

The "O soave fanciulla" aria filled the room, voices of a tenor and soprano poured out of the flowery funnel shaped speaker. He saw a sleeping Svetlana on the velvet loveseat. She looked like a sleeping angel: a china doll with thick, long lashes, alabaster skin, auburn curls; a stray curl rested on the collar bone, a bosom encased in a corset, her tiny hands rested across her stomach, and her feet were splayed across the loveseat, peeking from beneath her long skirt.

She lay so still that she looked like a statue, except her rising and falling bosom. She was so beautiful...maybe even more beautiful than Gabrielle. He snapped back to reality when her name came across his mind. He loved Gabrielle over all things: over his fiancée, Tammy Sinclair, over his mother, over Joan, the 41-year-old housewife he gardened for and banged, over everything...yet while he stood there, staring hypnotized at this sleeping angel, it was a tough decision to make over who was the most beautiful woman.

(john)

That voice. That silver, soprano whisper that he had heard in his head earlier.

(john ioan my rodolfo)

He was still confused. Who was this Ioan? That was the second time he heard that name. But who was Rodolfo?

(john ioan you are my rodolfo and i your svetlana your mimì)

A stray lock of hair hung over her eye; he moved it aside. The lock was softer than a satin ribbon. Her brow was so cold…colder than death. He had never felt a person so cold...he wondered if she was dead...yet, her bosom was still moving, alive like any human being.

(john I love you)

John backed away slowly. He barely knew this girl and he heard a voice whispering saying that she loved him. He loved Gabrielle. No voice in his head telling him that she loved him could change his mind.

Svetlana opened her eyes slowly, staring at him with twin amethyst eyes beneath thick lashes.

"How did you get in here?" she whispered in a silver soprano voice, similar to the voice in his head.

"Door was open," he replied. "I was thirsty and went to get some water."

"Ah," she said. "I shall get it for you."

She rose from the loveseat gracefully and disappeared to get some water. She held it elegantly towards him in a manner that had not been known or remembered in years. He touched her hand when she handed him the glass.

(che gelida manina)

He shivered; the hair on his arms stood on end at the icy touch of her hand.

"You're freezing," he whispered.

"Sorry," she said.

"Are you sure you're OK?"

Svetlana smiled a little. "Yes."

"Thank you for the water, Ms. M…." John didn't know how to pronounce her last name.

"Please, call me Svetlana."

"Sure."

She stared at John; the carotid artery throbbing and swelling in his neck, the smell of his blood was so sweet that it made it impossible to resist. She moved to his eyes, staring into them.

"Is there something on my nose?"

"No," she said. "I was looking at your eyes. They're lovely."

"Thank you," he said. "You have nice eyes yourself." He was hypnotized by the twin amethysts.

"They're very unusual. I've never seen eyes that color before. Are they contacts?"

She smiled. "Yes."

"Well, I, uh, better get back to work. Sorry for disturbing your nap, Svetlana."

"It's no trouble at all."

She watched him turn to the door.

"Wait!" she said.

(aspetti, signor)

John stopped in his tracks and turned to her.

"May I ask question?"  
"Sure."

"Are you...I mean...are you...celibate?"

"Huh?" he said confused.

"How do you say it...not have a lover?"  
"I'm engaged."

"Well, congratulations. You two must be very happy."

"Yea." He smiled.

Svetlana had a feeling he wasn't; he was in love with Gabrielle. He made love to her whenever he came over to garden.

"Well, I'd better get back to work."

She nodded, watching him go. She didn't want _anyone_ to touch John. She and he belonged together like two immortal lovers.

Anyone is capable of anything. One may crave vengeance, one may hunger for love, or one may want to burn bridges. And then, there are those who simply want something that belongs to someone else. But they are willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want.


	7. Episode 7

Episode 7

Young Bloods

Svetlana loved to have a filling meal. When she was a mortal, she had as many filling helpings as she wanted. As a newly wed, the food had gone tasteless; the sight of food sickened her and the wine had no taste. She couldn't bear to touch anything. The night she became a vampire, she had fed on as many throats as she pleased since blood seemed to be her new favorite food.

Yes. Svetlana loved a good filling meal. She fed at night in hospitals and nursing homes and sometimes on passersby or evildoers. The police were clueless about why so many people were dying or disappearing.

Today, Svetlana decided to fill herself with a satisfying blood meal. She stood on the corner, watching John mow the front lawn of Joan Woods' home. He began to trim the hedges until she saw Joan come out and run her fingers up his back, signaling him to come inside. Then, he followed her into the house. She knew what they were doing. She kept standing on the corner, waiting until John left.

_Ding Dong_

Joan Woods was 41-years-old, red hair, medium sized and a housewife. Her husband hardly was home anymore. She fooled around with John all the time whenever he came over to garden.

Joan heard the doorbell ring and put down her magazine that she was reading. Who could that be at this time of day? She went to answer the door in her robe. A veiled figure stood on her porch.

"Hello," said Joan. "May I help you?"  
"Yes," said a female Slavic voice beneath a veil. She remained silent for a moment.

"Well, what is it? I'm busy."

"May I come in?"

"Sure."

The woman stepped inside. Joan closed the door. She lifted her veil to reveal a china doll face and twin amethyst eyes. "I know what you did."

"What are you talking about?"

"The gardener. He's my husband."

"He never mentioned a wife."

"Yes. And to be quite honest, I don't like mistresses. In fact, I _despise_ them."

Joan's heart sped up with fear...she saw that the woman's eyes had turned an ultraviolet color and smiled a smile that revealed a pair of pearly white canines that were sharp...no! They were not teeth, but fangs!

"And do you know what happens to mistresses that touch my husband?"

Joan backed away and ran towards the kitchen, screaming. Svetlana leaped on her, clapping her screaming mouth with a cold hand, silencing them. She sank her fangs into Joan's wrinkly neck; blood squirted into the vampire's mouth, sweeter than ambrosia. Joan struggled and flopped like a fish out of water until she fell limp on the hardwood floor. The vampire licked up the remainder of blood.

Yes. Svetlana loved a filling meal. Especially with a side dish of revenge because that was the sweetest meal of all.

The Fairview Tribune's headlines read:

_Housewife found dead in home. Cause of death unknown._

_Yesterday morning, Mrs. Joan Woods, 41, was found dead in her home. Her cause of death is still being determined by the county's medical examiner; he found Mrs. Woods' red blood count to be extremely low. _

The residents of Wisteria Lane became worried because people turning up dead or going missing. Security and neighborhood watches began to increase on Wisteria Lane and curfews were set at a specific time.

If only they knew that a vampire was living on their street...neither tightened security nor was neighborhood watches going to keep her from feeding...

_ANDREW_

Andrew Van de Kamp sat in his cardboard box, scratching himself. He hadn't bathed in a long time, he shaved his head because he had head lice, his clothes were ragged and his shoes had holes in them. His stomach growled with hunger; there was nothing good in the dumpster today. He lied down on his pile of rags, shivering beneath his ragged blanket.

He heard footsteps on the street and turned his head down the block. He saw nothing but black down the street. Nothing. He shrugged it off. Probably a stray cat or dog. He lay down once again to try to sleep. He didn't see that a hooded figure was standing right in front of him. He woke up to find a woman on top of him, sinking her teeth into his neck. He groaned with pain and felt blood gush into her mouth, her lips locking onto the wound. He realized that this woman was a vampire! She sucked his blood, tasting its sweetness...

The vampire saw everything inside Andrew's mind: his devious rebellion against his mother Bree (ah! how she would make such a good vampire) from drinking at a bar to a strip club, having a fake ID, running over Carlos Solis's mother, Juanita, and putting her into a coma, smoking pot, his stay at Camp Hennessy, his gay affair with a young man named Justin, his vow of revenge against Bree, having his lover Justin beat him up in order to make it look like she did it, his threat of emancipation, sleeping with his mother's sex addict friend, and finally being left at a gas station while Bree drove off.

Andrew fell limp in her arms...yet, he wasn't dead...not quite. The vampire lifted her head, revealing a bloody mouth and ultraviolet eyes.

"Andrew," the vampire whispered. "Would you like to be young forever? To live forever? To never get sick or grow old and never die?"

Andrew groaned from the pain.  
"I'm offering you a gift, Andrew...the gift of immortality. However, if you don't take this gift I'm offering you, you'll die a slow, painful death. Do you want to live forever?"

"Y...y...yes..." he struggled to say.

"Good," the vampire said. "Now return home to your mother."

Andrew trudged home, sick and near the point of death; the vampire had drained him and left him for dead, yet he managed to find the strength to walk to the neat suburban Wisteria Lane. He felt himself burning up with a fever that he had never had before and a splitting headache. He was sure he was going to die.

He knocked on the white door of the blue house. Bree opened the door to find her dirty, ragged son standing there, sick. The prodigal son had returned home.

"Andrew!" she said, shocked.

"Mama..." he whimpered.

Then, he collapsed on the floor. Bree held her dying son in her arms, assuring him that she would get help...it wasn't until she saw blood stained on her blue blouse and found that they were coming from Andrew's neck...she pushed his head aside to find twin punctures and let out a scream...

Andrew lay in Sacred Heart Hospital; a blood bag hanging and an IV injected into his arm from the blood bag. Bree sat by her son, worried sick about him.

"Mrs. Hodge," said the doctor.

"Yes?"

"I'm not sure how to tell you this, but your son's blood count is normal, yet it is not. He shows all the signs of anemia. We're still running tests on his blood to see what is causing him to have a low red blood cell count."

"What about the marks on his neck?"

"Mrs. Hodge, they appear to be about 32 centimeters apart, the average distance between two human eye teeth, yet they aren't consistent with human bite."

"Not human? Then, what did this to my son?"

"Give us time, Mrs. Hodge. We need time to find out who did this to your son."

Andrew lay on the gurney, sweating, his head felt like it was splitting in two and his fever was driving him crazy. He saw pictures in his head that were all mixed: fangs, death, blood...

He felt so thirsty...yet it wasn't for water...something sweeter...

_XIAO-MEI_

Xiao-Mei got out of twin sized bed to get a glass of water from the elaborate kitchen; she couldn't sleep. It was just too hot.

She was happy living in America. Yet, the government wanted to deport her back to China. She just couldn't go back; her uncle would sell her again as a slave. She was sold to an American housewife named Maxine Bennett: she kept Xiao-Mei locked in her little kitchen and she made food day and night whenever she had guests over. Maxine was arrested for involuntary servitude and Xiao-Mei was sent to live with the Solis' for a few days until it was time for her to go back to China. She wanted to stay instead with the Solis' and work in their home. However, the government sent her letters of deportation, yet she had appeal dates as well. She ignored them, hoping they would give up...but, the last letter was sent, saying that she would deported permanently.

She stood on the back porch, drinking her water, enjoying its coolness in her dry throat. She looked at the starry night sky, praying for a miracle.

Soon, there was a rustle in the trees. She stopped dead in her spot, feeling the hair on her neck stand on ends.

"Hello?" she said in poor English, shivering and looking all over the place to where the rustle came from.

(xiao-mei)

She shuddered when she heard a soft voice whisper her name.

"Who there?" she said, her voice trembling.

A cold, strong arm hooked around Xiao-Mei's neck; she began to scream, but it was silenced by a cold hand. Then, something sharp dug into her neck and she realized it was teeth...no! They were sharper than teeth, but fangs, breaking the flesh and the carotid artery. Blood trickled from the wound and the monster locked its lips around the punctures and sucked; her heart beating in rhythm with Xiao-Mei's own beating heart.

As a child, Xiao-Mei's father told stories about _jiang shi_, or hopping corpses that hopped around feeding off of the blood of living creatures. They often travelled as smugglers in disguise to scare off law enforcement. Her father, being a superstitious man, had his children keep a yellow piece of paper with a spell on it to keep the _jiang shi_ away. She had always thought that _jiang shi_ were only in stories and now, here she was being bitten by a blood-sucking _jiang shi_.

Xiao-Mei felt her body growing cold, her strength diminished and her legs collapsed, and she felt tired...almost like dying...yet she wasn't quite dead yet...

The _jiang shi_ leaned towards her ear and it spoke Chinese! How did a _jiang shi_ know how to speak her language?

"Xiao-Mei," it whispered. "I'm going to offer you a gift. Think of it: you can be young as you are now, stronger than any man, you will never get ill or die."

"What do you mean?" she asked in Chinese.

"I'm offering you the gift of immortality. However, if I leave you here, you can die a slow, painful death. Do you want to come with me?"

"Shì."

The _jiang shi_ pulled its hood off. It was nothing like her father had told her in his tales to her as a child. It was a female. So white. Its eyes were an ultraviolet, mouth stained with blood and auburn curls. She pulled her sleeve up, revealing a white arm, opened her mouth and bit her wrist with a pair of pearly white fangs. Blood drops fell in quarter sized drops into Xiao-Mei's mouth. She opened wide, tasting every succulent drop...it was sweeter than anything she had ever eaten, yet it wasn't enough. She wanted more. Xiao-Mei took the _jiang shi's_ wrist and brought the open wound to her mouth and began to suck vehemently and hungrily.

The _jiang shi_ heard Xiao-Mei's heart beating louder and louder; she began to feel drained...the girl was draining every ounce of blood she had fed on.

"Stop it!" she screamed. "Enough!"

The _jiang shi_ pulled her wrist away; Xiao-Mei fell backwards onto the grass with a bloody mouth and chin, feeling terrible pains inside her; she felt like her lungs were being crushed by her own rib cage and her heart being squeezed by an iron fist and her insides being twisted in horrible directions...almost being torn apart. She wanted to scream, but couldn't. She lay still on her back and the world just stopped moving and darkness encumbered Xiao-Mei. Her dark brown eyes turned an amber color, her yellow skin became paler, and her canines elongated and sharpened into fangs.

Xiao-Mei blinked her eyes, looking around. The darkness was as clear as crystal to her.

"Am I one of you?" she asked in Chinese.

"Yes," she said. "You are an immortal. A vampire. Come with me, Xiao-Mei. Leave the Solis'. I shall let you live in freedom. I won't let the government take you."

Xiao-Mei felt hungry. She wanted more of that blood.

"More," she said in Chinese.

"Later, my dear," said the _jiang shi_. "Dawn is almost here. You must sleep or you'll be burned by the sun's deadly rays."

The two vampires disappeared into the house next to the Solis's.

_DANIELLE_

Danielle Van de Kamp sat on the bench of Valley View Park, waiting for Robert Faladi, her history teacher to come. She wore a low cut shirt and a short pink mini skirt with high heels, trembling with excitement to see her lover.

Yes, he was her teacher and was married, but she didn't care. He loved her and she loved him. He was going to divorce his bitter wife and be with Danielle. He promised.

Soon, Robert arrived with a smile on his face. Danielle smiled back. He sat on the bench next to her.

"Right on time," she said.

They kissed.

They didn't realize that they were being watched...

While Robert and Danielle were making out, he cupped her breast in his large hand and Danielle pressed her body into his...two heartbeats that pounded fast and adrenalin coursed through their bodies…

A rustle came from the trees. They stopped, terrified. Someone or something was there. Maybe Robert's wife sent a private investigator to follow them to see whether he was cheating on her. Danielle's heart sped up at the rate of a jackhammer.

"Hello?" said Robert.

Another rustle.  
"Is someone there?"

Another rustle.

"Hello?"

He shivered and his hair stood on end. Where were these noises coming from? What was making them?

They stopped and it was silence.

"Robert, I'm scared," Danielle said, her voice trembling.

"Don't worry, Danielle," he said. "I'm sure it was nothing."

Suddenly, a flash of fangs and a cloaked figure stood behind Robert and dug its fangs into his neck, sucking his blood. Danielle let out a high-pitched piercing scream, staring at the cold, soulless ultraviolet eyes that stared at her as it fed on Robert. She ran as fast as she could. While running, her heels made her trip and fall, scraping her knee and getting grass stains on them. She kicked her shoes off and ran barefoot, panting…

Danielle got home panting, feet bloody and mangled from running in her bare feet.

"Danielle," said Bree. "Where are your shoes?"

"I threw them out," she said. "The heels broke."

Bree raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Did you walk home barefoot?"

"Yea."

"Where were you?"

"Out with friends. My heel broke and I walked home."

"Where are your friends now?"

"Who cares? They were all drunk and I left."

Bree still was skeptical. It didn't make any sense.

Danielle lay in her bed, terrified. She bandaged up her feet and held her stuffed animal close to her. She couldn't sleep that night; she kept staring at the window, wondering if it would come in her bed. She ran to her desk and pulled out a crucifix that had been stuffed in there; though she didn't believe in God, now was the time to believe. Crucifixes should ward them off...she had heard stories about methods to keep them away. She snuck into Bree's kitchen and stole a few bulbs of garlic and poured garlic powder near her window and around the perimeter under her bed.

(vampires)

Bree came into Danielle's room to say goodnight. She sniffed the air and there was sulfurous odor coming from Danielle.

"Danielle, did you eat pizza tonight?"

"Why?"

"You smell like garlic."

"Yes. I did."

Bree raised another skeptical eyebrow.

As Danielle was leaving for school, she overheard her mother talking to Orson, her step-father in the kitchen.

"Darling, where is all the garlic? I could've sworn I bought some last week."

"I haven't seen it."

Danielle secured her garlic necklace beneath her coat along with a crucifix and holy water. She had been up all night, reading about warding off vampires.

Danielle sat in her history class, frightened, her arms around her body, staring all over the place. She couldn't tell anybody what she had seen; nobody would believe her that she had crossed paths with a vampire. Vampires didn't exist. Sure, everyone told stories about them, but they didn't exist. If she told anyone about her encounter with a vampire, they would just think she was crazy.

What's worse was that her history teacher, Robert Faladi, had been reported missing by his wife. The police were at the school, asking the staff questions...rumor had it that his wife was told her husband went out for a drive and never came home. And Danielle was the last to see him alive...and knew what happened. She couldn't tell the police about Robert's whereabouts...that mean she'd have to tell them about her affair with her teacher and then his wife would come after her...and the story about the vampire she had encountered, the police would think she was just some crazy kid making up stories. They would never believe that Robert was attacked by a vampire.

"Danielle?" said her friend, Julie Mayer.

"Huh?" she said, startled.

"Are you OK?"

"Fine."

Julie raised her eyebrows and sniffed for a second. "And why do you smell like garlic?"

"Um...well...I had garlic pizza for breakfast today."

Julie raised her eyebrows, very weirded out by her friend's behavior. Danielle never acted like this before.

"What's under your coat?"

"Nothing. Abso…" Before she could finish her sentence, she opened Danielle's coat and found bulbs of garlic, a crucifix and holy water around her neck.

"What's all this?"

"It's nothing! I'm just not feeling like myself today."

"OK, then," she said. "Did you hear that Mr. Faladi was reported missing today?"

"No," Danielle lied.

Downstairs, a young pale girl entered the front entrance after lifting her veil over her head.

"Are you a student?" asked the receptionist.

"Yes," she replied.

"You'll have to sign in as tardy."

"I don't think that's necessary. I'm just on time."

"Oh, never mind then."

The girl smiled. She had fooled her. Mortals were pathetic weaklings. She turned towards the stairs.

Danielle was in the bathroom, vomiting and crying. Robert was dead. She loved Robert and he loved her. Sure, he was married, 35 and her teacher, but love was all that mattered. What's worse was that if _anyone_ found out about her affair with Robert, she would be known as Little Miss Van de Tramp. Her mother would be upset. Her affair would be made public by the media, a scandal exposed, and everything in her life would be ruined.

She got out of the bathroom stall and splashed cold water on her face to calm down. She fixed her hair, blew her nose, and reapplied her makeup. Soon, she saw a bathroom stall open all by itself...in the mirror. She turned around to see a pale girl with violet eyes.

"Hello, Danielle," she said.

"Who the fuck are you?" she said.

"I'm the angel of death. I got much better acquainted with your friend Robert last night. I must say he was quite delicious."

Danielle held up her garlic crucifix necklace. The vampire only laughed, violet eyes sparkling and fangs exposed.

"Ah! I see you've read vampire fiction stories." The vampire approached closer.

"STAY BACK, VAMPIRE!"

She splashed holy water at her. Nothing happened; it didn't burn her, only rolled off the vampire's face.

"You silly, silly girl. You read way too many books about vampires, yet you know nothing of our kind. You think a crucifix, garlic and holy water is going to keep me away? I don't think so."

The vampire yanked the garlic necklace off Danielle's neck and threw it across the room; the crucifix made a loud wooden clunk. Danielle ran to the door, but a blur passed her, blocking the door. The vampire hissed, flashing fangs and stared with ultraviolet eyes, smiling. Danielle screamed, but was silenced by a cold, white hand. The vampire knocked her to the floor, pinning her down with the strength of a man; her struggling was futile against this beast. The vampire sunk her sharp fangs into Danielle's perfect, soft neck, breaking the flesh where the throbbing artery was. She locked her lips onto the broken flesh and sucking hard, draining every ounce of blood in her.

Danielle slowly felt sleepy...almost had a dying kind of feeling...her muscles weakened and her body became exhausted...the world became fuzzy. The vampire lifted her head and smiled a bloody mouthed smile.

"Danielle," it whispered, licking her lips. "I used to envy you, Danielle: perfect hair, flawless skin. But deep down, what do you see in that mirror? A girl so vain, prideful, and foolish." She paused again, staring at Danielle, weak from being drained. "Wouldn't you like to be flawless, young, and beautiful forever? I know that's what you want since you are a vain girl."

Danielle said nothing.

"Or I could just drain the last bit of blood that you have left and leave you here for dead. What is it you want, Danielle? Live or die?"

"L...live," she managed to say.  
"I thought so," she said. "Good choice. Nobody your age wants do die, do they?"

Danielle weakly shook her head and her world went black...

Danielle woke up to find herself in a hospital. How she'd gotten there, she didn't remember. She felt feverish, her head was splitting in two, and she began to see images...black and white mixed up images.

Her mother, Bree burst into the room with hair disarray, no makeup, and her robe on.  
"Danielle," she said, her voice trembling. "Are you all right. I was worried sick when you didn't come home."

Danielle said nothing, staring into space, delirious from the fever. She felt thirsty, but it wasn't for water...something sweeter...red...

"First Andrew and now you," said Bree. "What is happening to you two?"

"I'm fine, Mom," she said, weakly. "I was in the bathroom and I passed out..."

"But how?"

"I don't remember."

Soon, the doctor came to take Bree aside to tell her about Danielle's condition. A police officer was behind him.

"Why is this policeman here?" asked Bree.

"He has some questions for your daughter, concerning the disappearance of one of her teachers," said the doctor. "In the mean time, you and me, Mrs. Hodge, we need to talk about Danielle's condition."

"What do you mean one of her teacher's disappearances?"

"One of Danielle's teachers, Robert Faladi, was reported missing by his wife," said the policeman. "His wife claims that he went out for a drive last night and he didn't return. We found his car parked at Fairview Valley Park and a witness claimed to see someone matching your daughter's description running away. So, basically, your daughter is a potential witness or suspect. We need to ask her some questions."

"Why would she..." Bree began.

"I'll tell you later once I'm finished interrogating Danielle, Mrs. Hodge. Now, if you'll excuse me."

The policeman went into Danielle's room and closed the door behind him.

"Mrs. Hodge," said the doctor, his face sullen. "Your daughter has the same condition as your son, Andrew."

"What? What?"

"Both of your children have a low red blood cell count. And they both have similar punctures on their necks...so, something or somebody attacked them..."

Bree stood frozen at this news. Who would attack her children?

"The police think that these attacks on your children are linked to a series of murders that occurred recently..."

"Murders? What do you mean?"

"That is all that they would tell me...otherwise, I don't know any further details..."

The policeman, Officer Hayes sat in the chair next to Danielle's bed, taking out his pad and pen. Danielle just stared into space, her fever rising higher and higher, the sweat pouring in large drops, her chills rippled in waves up her spine, and her thirst grew stronger...

(blood)

"OK, Danielle," said Officer Hayes. "You were the last to see Mr. Faladi alive. What were you doing at Fairview Valley Park so late at night?"

Danielle just said nothing.

_Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub..._

Heart beats. Danielle's eyes moved to the left where Officer Hayes was sitting; the beats got louder. Her gaze went up from his badge...veins throbbed visibly beneath the flesh of his hands...her thirst kept growing...

(i want more)

"Danielle, were you sleeping with him?"

Danielle's gaze went to the policeman's neck, watching the Y of his carotid artery flicker beneath his flesh.

"Danielle, we know you were sleeping with Mr. Faladi. We found your fingerprints, hair and skin cells all over his car. We also found a used condom in the back seat."

Danielle kept staring at the throbbing artery, listening to the beats of his heart in rhythm, her thirst growing…

"What would your mother think if she found out that you, a seventeen-year-old girl, was sleeping with her teacher?"

Silence. Staring…so thirsty…

"Danielle?"

She let out a roar and leapt out of the bed, teeth bared and eyes glittering with a beastly hunger. She leapt on top of the officer, struggling to get her teeth onto his neck. The officer let out a startled yell, restraining the crazy girl back. He was a strong, young man, but this strength coming from this 17-year-old was no match for him. It was a strength coming from somewhere else…

He pulled the nurse call chord; the doctor came running in with a team of nurses.

"Holy SHIT!" yelled the doctor. "Get some thorazine."

The doctor and his team of nurses pulled a crazy, drooling Danielle off the policeman. They held her down while she flapped and flopped wildly like a fish out of water, roaring and snapping her teeth.

"Jesus!" said one of the nurses.

"Don't struggle," said the doctor. "Just relax."

"I…want…more…" she yelled. "More…bl…"

The nurse came running with a syringe filled with clear liquid, injecting it into her muscle. Danielle's struggling began to slow down…

"Mommy…" Danielle whispered. "Stay…"

_DYLAN_

Dylan Mayfair lay in her bed, dreaming. Hands, reaching out to her…she had no other memory before that…

Dylan sat up, panting and sweating in terror. Oh! It was only a dream. She laid back down, closing her eyes, trying to bring sleep to her mind.

(dylan)

A silver soprano voice whispered in her ear. Dylan sat up, looking around in the dark looking for the voice. She shrugged it off and went to sleep.

In deep sleep, she heard the voice again…

(dylan)  
"Mm?" she said in her sleep.

(rise follow my voice)

Dylan got out of bed, still sleeping following the voice.

(the attic come to the attic let me in dylan)

She obeyed, but stopped at the attic door.

"It's locked. Mom said I can't go in the attic."  
(locks can't stop us)

The lock unlocked itself and the door opened as if an invisible hand had done so.

Katherine sat up when she heard Dylan's voice.

"What?" said Adam, annoyed that his wife moved so abruptly while he was asleep.

"Dylan's talking," she said. "I'm going to go check on her."

"She's probably just dreaming, honey."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Sometimes people talk in their sleep. Just relax and go to sleep."

Katherine lay down in the bed. Soon she heard Dylan's footsteps and they were heading towards the attic, the place she had forbidden Dylan to go.

"It's locked. Mom said I can't go in the attic."

Silence. The attic door opened.

Katherine got out of bed and ran out.

"What now?" Adam groaned, annoyed to be awakened again.

"Dylan!" Katherine said, sternly. "I told you not…"

The door slammed shut and locked itself.

Dylan stood in the attic, staring in a dream like state, still sleeping.

(let me in Dylan open the window)

She obeyed and opened the window; the wind blew through the curtains, making them look like elaborate silk waves. An auburn haired lady came in the window. She was so beautiful.

"Dylan," she whispered. "Would you like to live forever?"

Then, there was the sound of pounding on the door…

Katherine pounded on the door, screaming angrily that her daughter had disobeyed her again.

"Dylan! Open this door! You know you're not allowed to go to the attic!"

Dylan didn't answer.

"Dylan, if you don't open this door right now, you are SERIOUSLY going to get it!"

Still no answer.

The window opened.

"That's it! I'm getting the keys to open the door. And when I get back, you are in seriously in trouble, missy!"

"Dylan," said a youthful voice. "Would you like to live forever?"

"Dylan, who's in there? Is it Julie Mayer? I told you not to talk to that girl anymore!"

Still no answer. She ran to get the keys to the attic.

Dylan nodded, unaware of what was happening. Her mother's voice was blurred and the pounding on the door was like knocking. The auburn haired lady hugged Dylan, stroking her hair like she was comforting her. Then, she felt pain on her neck. She let out a weak moan of pain. This was no girl…but a vampire! Was it real or just a dream? It felt so real though. Dylan fainted and the vampire was gone.

Katherine opened the door and found her daughter lying on the floor.

"Dylan?" she asked, shaking her gently.

Dylan blinked her eyes, waking up. She looked confused.

"Huh? How did I get up here?"

"You went upstairs and unlocked the door. Didn't you know that?"

"No. I don't." Her voice was sincere. "I was asleep in bed."

"No, you weren't in bed, dear. You went upstairs to the attic."

"I was sure that I was sleeping."

Katherine was certain that her daughter was telling the truth: that explained why Dylan didn't respond to her and why she didn't remember anything. Dylan was sleepwalking.

"Let's get you back to bed." She helped Dylan up on her feet. Her hair felt unusually wet. "Sweetie, why is your hair wet?"

Katherine gathered Dylan's hair in her hair and squeezed hard; the wetness felt unusually sticky. There was soon redness on her hand. It was blood! She moved Dylan's hair to look for any injuries and only found twin punctures on her neck.

"Dylan, how did you get these?"

Dylan touched her neck and felt the two holes. She made a horrified face…

"Oh my God! This…this is so wrong! I don't remember this!"  
The sticky blood on her hands yet smelled so good. So irresistible! The mere sight of it excited her like a starving dog anticipating a meal. Katherine got a washcloth and wiped up the blood.

"How does it feel?"

"It kind of burns," Dylan whispered.

Katherine ran to the kitchen and placed some ice in a towel. "Hold this towel on the holes. Maybe it'll stop the burning."

Dylan did so. "I'm kind of tired. I'm going to go to sleep."

Katherine nodded.

Once she was gone, Dylan began to suck the bloody washcloth and lick the blood off her fingers. Oh God! It was good! She wanted more!

Dylan had been feeling unusually sick after what happened last night. Katherine agreed to let her stay home from school.

"You probably have a flu," she said. "You'll be better by tomorrow."

A week went by. Dylan was not any better. She had a high fever swelling painfully slow and a headache felt like someone was driving a wooden wedge in the middle of her skull. She sweated so much that her sheets got soaked. She opened the window, turned the fan on…but nothing helped. The funny thing was that the sun was bothering her; normally it didn't bothered her but it felt like it was burning her skin like she was standing in a fire. Plus, she couldn't stand the smell of food. It nauseated her. However, the only thing she craved was something sweet…something red…

Katherine brought in her lunch tray; her breakfast hadn't been touched.

"Not hungry?" she asked.

"No," came a reply from under the sheets.

"Dylan, why are the shades down? It's a lovely day outside. You should let in some light."

"The sun bothers me."

"Why?"

"It just does. Jesus, why do I have to explain it?"

"Dylan, it's a nice day outside. It's not good to not have any sunlight."

She began to pull the shade up. Dylan sat up in her bed; she looked like a wild, possessed beast: eyes red and hollow and glazed, her face sweaty and pale, her hair was all messy and wet, sticking to her face and neck.

"CLOSE THOSE FUCKING BLINDS!" she shrieked. She sounded like a banshee. "I TOLD YOU THE SUN BOTHERS ME! IT FUCKING BURNS!"

"Dylan!" Katherine said angrily. "Don't say those words! And don't scream! We don't need all this attention!"

"CLOSE THE BLINDS, YOU STUPID BITCH!"

Katherine slapped her daughter across the face.

"Don't _ever_ speak to me with that language, missy!"

Dylan leapt onto her mother, teeth flared, screaming like a wild beast.

"You dare hit me?" she said, her teeth bared. "Let's see if your blood is sweet enough for me."

The carotid artery in Katherine's neck swelled. She wanted more. More sweetness that she liked.

Katherine screamed, trying to push her daughter off. Her strength was twice as strong as a man's.

"Adam!" she yelled. "Adam! Help!"

Adam came running up the stairs and opened the door to find the two girls wrestling on the floor. There was chaos with claws, screams, hair whipping. He pulled Dylan off and held her down on the bed; her strength was even stronger than his.

"Dylan!" he yelled over her shrieks. "Dylan, calm down."

"CLOSE THE BLINDS! CLOSE THEM! CLOSE THEM! CLOSE THEM!" she screamed.

"Katherine, do it," Adam said, struggling to keep a screaming, rather strong 17-year-old girl down on the bed.

Katherine closed the blinds and slowly the girl calmed down and passed out with exhaustion.

"What was that about?"

"I don't know, I went to open the blinds and she threw a temper tantrum," Katherine replied.

"I think we should take her to the hospital and get her checked out. She hasn't been feeling very well lately."

Katherine reluctantly agreed.

Dylan sat on the exam table, staring into space with glazed, red eyes. The doctor examined her.

"Dylan, would you mind if I took a blood sample?" asked the doctor.

Dylan shook her head.

The doctor got out a needle and stuck it in Dylan's arm and blood squirted into the glass vial. Dylan stared wildly at the sight of the blood. She wanted more!

"Mr. and Mrs. Mayfair," said the doctor. "I have some questions about your daughter. Has your daughter donated blood in the last few months or so?"

"No," replied Katherine.

"Does your daughter have any blood related diseases?"

"No."

"Is there a family history of blood related diseases or porphyria?"

"No. Why so many questions? And what is porphyria?"

"Porphyria is an inherited or acquired disease of enzymes in the heme biosynthetic pathway." He opened the chart. "Your daughter complains of the following: high fever, migraine, mental disturbances, hallucinations, loss of appetite and photosensitivity."

"Photosensitivity?"

"It means that sunlight bothers her." He flipped through the chart. "Your daughter also has pale face and nail beds as well. Her red blood cell count is low. These symptoms could indicate she has pernicious anemia. It's a blood disease that lacks vitamin B12."

"So, what can you do?"

"Well, I recommend you give her vitamin B12 daily in oral form. But if that doesn't work, I can give a prescription for injections once a month. First, I'm going to give her a blood transfusion. If her red blood cells drop any more, she could die."

Dylan laid on the hospital bed, eyes closed, sweat dripping down her forehead and her hair sticking to her face, and her breathing was slow.

Suddenly, she smelled something that was sinfully sweet; she smelt it before the doctor could speak. The scent made her mouth water.

"Dylan?"

Dylan's eyes opened quickly and saw a bag of blood and her heart rate increased and her mouth salivated.

"I'm going to give you an intravenous blood transfusion because your blood cell count is low, OK?"

Dylan only stared at the blood bag. She wanted it!

"Just relax. You're going to feel a pinch in your arm." The doctor injected the needle and Dylan just watched, excited; she watched as the blood went from the bag to the tube. Eyes wild, she yanked the needle out of her arm; blood squirted from her artery and she looked at it and licked off her fingers excitedly. The doctor pushed her down and restrained her.

"GET OFF OF ME!" she screamed. "I MUST HAVE IT!"

The girl was twice as strong as him; blood stained his white jacket.

He pulled the emergency call. Four nurses came in.

"Thorzine! Stat!" he yelled. "Restrain her!"

The nurses restrained the screaming, bloody mouthed girl with all their strength and another came in with a thorzine needle and injected into her arm. Slowly, she calmed down.

"My God!" said the doctor.

"Mrs. Mayfair," said the doctor. "Your daughter just tried to drink her own blood."

"What?"

"Why would she do that?" asked Adam.

"That's one of the symptoms of anemia: personality changes and/or mental disturbances. I have researched on psychological disorders and your daughter might have Renfield syndrome."

"What is that, doctor?"

"It's known as clinical vampirism: referred to the character of Dracula who went mad after being bitten. It's basically an obsession with drinking blood. However, this disorder is only seen in males; it's rare that a female would have this."

"My God! What can you do?"

"We've given her a sedative. We'll keep her under observation."

Katherine nodded.

Dylan slept, knocked out from the thorzine drip. Her thirst remained. Soft footsteps came towards her room. A shadow was cast on the curtain. Dylan sat up, soaked in sweat and blinked her eyes.

"Dylan," said the voice. "Do you remember me?"

Dylan was silent. She remembered the red haired lady that came to her in her dream.

"Do you want to be immortal and always youthful like me?"

The curtain moved aside; there stood the red haired lady with pale skin and violet eyes, smiling. Her fingers brushed the curtain.

"What do you want?" asked Dylan.

"I want you to answer my question."

"What?"

"I asked if you would like to drink from the fountain of eternal youth." She bit her wrist and blood trailed down her white arm. Dylan could smell the sweetness of it and sat up immediately.

"Yes!" she said. She grabbed the lady's arm and began licking the trail of blood on her arm all the way up to the open wound and sucking hard, sinking her teeth into the cold, soft flesh.

"Stop!" she said with gritted teeth. She pushed Dylan away from her; she fell back on the pillow with a bloody mouth and began to breathing shallow and her heart beat at the rate of a jackhammer and her insides were being crushed.

Dylan opened her eyes, which were now a golden green color, her hair was curled much better, and her skin was paler, yet it glowed with perfection. She looked around and saw so clearly in the dark; her tongue brushed against her newly grown in fangs.

"I'm hungry," she said.

"Of course you are," she said. "Come with me. We will feed soon."

_JULIE_

Julie Mayer was worried about Danielle Van de Kamp. She had been acting very strangely today. She looked scared…like she had seen a ghost. Danielle wouldn't talk to Julie about what was bothering her. She was her best friend, yet here she was ignoring and avoiding her.

She had seen Danielle go into the girls' bathroom. She went in to see if she was OK. The second she opened the door, there was Danielle, lying on the floor on her side…

"Danielle!" Julie said, a tremor in her voice.

She was alive. But once she saw the two punctures on Danielle's neck and a stream of blood, she gasped and fumbled for her cell phone and dialed 911.

"911, what's your emergency?" the operator said.  
"My friend needs an ambulance," Julie sobbed.

"What's your location?"

"Fairview High School."

"What's wrong with your friend?"

"She..."

Her phone was snatched out of her hand by a cold, alabaster hand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Julie," said the voice behind her.

Julie saw an alabaster face with ultraviolet eyes and a bloody mouth. Julie made a run to the door, but was knocked down…the creature climbed on top of her and bit her neck. Blood gushed and lips locked onto her neck…

Black…

Julie woke up in the hospital. She was scared. She and Danielle had been attacked by a vampire. No one would believe her. She had scoffed at her mother when she read in the news about a vampire on a plane. Now, she believed that they existed.

"Julie!" said her mother, Susan, flanked by her dad, Karl.

"You OK, kiddo?" asked Karl.  
Julie nodded. "I'm fine."

"What happened?" asked Susan.

"I…"

Suddenly, images appeared in Julie's head: black and white, flashing, mixed up. She didn't know what they were. Her fever spiked and chills went up her body, sweat poured from her forehead. She blinked her eyes.

"I don't remember," she lied.

Julie closed her eyes, trying to sleep. Her fever kept rising and the chills kept vibrating up her spine. Her thirst grew…and strangely it wasn't for water or juice…something sweeter than juice…red…

Soft footsteps approached Julie's room. She sat up and saw two shadows behind the curtain.

"Who's there?" she said.

The curtain pulled back slowly to reveal a pale face, glowing ultraviolet eyes. It was that vampire that bit her. She was flanked by a young Chinese girl with golden eyes and Dylan Mayfair with green gold eyes.

"Hello, Julie," the vampire said, smiling.

"Dylan?" said Julie. "Oh my God! What have you done to her?"

"I have shown her the fountain of youth and she has drunk from it and found eternal life and youthfulness," the vampire replied.

"And why did you do that? Why did you try to kill me?"

"I would never do that, Julie," said the vampire. "I only drained you to the point of death. I never wanted you dead." She smiled, showing a pair of pearly, white fangs. "They only reason I kept you alive is because I'm offering you a gift. A gift that you would never refuse." She paused, sitting by Julie's bedside. "Would you like to be young as you are now forever? Would you like to live forever, be youthful forever? I know you try to be as perfect so you can please your mother with good grades and being a good girl."

Julie was enticed by this offer: to live and be young forever?

"Julie, how old do you think I am?" the vampire asked.

Julie didn't answer. She looked her up and down and guessed about seventeen years old.

"You think I'm seventeen, don't you?"

Julie was shocked. It was as if she read her mind.

"I'm 17-years-old…physically. But in reality, I'm over 400 years old. I was made at the age of 17. Wouldn't you like to be young, flawless and perfect like me?"

Julie had often wished she could be perfect like all the models in her magazine: perfect hair, skin, maybe lose a few pounds.

"I do," said Julie. "So…"

"Is that a yes?" the vampire asked.

"Yes. I want your gift."

The vampire rolled up her sleeve; her white arm shimmered in the night and bit her wrist. The Chinese girl's eyes grew wide and twitched at the sight of blood. The vampire spoke Chinese to the girl. Julie felt the drops of blood fall onto her lips. It was sweet…sweeter than candy…Julie wanted more. The vampire lowered her wrist to Julie's lips so she could have more.

"That's it," said the vampire.

Julie gripped onto the cold, white wrist, digging her nails into the soft flesh, her eyes wide with hunger and sucking vehemently.

The vampire began to feel drained as Julie sucked on her wrist, feeling every ounce of blood that was precious to her disappearing. She pulled her wrist away; the wound was wet and healed with the blink of an eye.

Julie screamed as she felt horrible pains; her insides were being torn in different directions, her heart felt it was being crushed as it beat rapidly, struggling to pump blood through her body and her lungs were being crushed by her own ribcage.

Julie's world went back and everything stopped functioning…

Her hair curled slightly, her skin became whiter than marble, perfect and flawless as a porcelain doll's. Her flaws and blemishes disappeared. Her canine's elongated and sharpened into fangs. Julie opened her golden colored eyes, blinking several times, awakening from her transformation, seeing the room as crystal clear as she would during the day. Strange, she was hungry once she had awakened…

She wanted more.

Three nurses came in, breathless and breathing hard.

"Is everything all right?" asked the first nurse.

"Fine. Everything is just fine," the vampire just said.

"What are you doing here?" said the second nurse. "The hospital is closed. Visiting hours are over."

"I don't think so," said the vampire. "In fact, we're having supper. And you're the main course."

The nurses stared, puzzled. Suddenly, the Chinese girl grabbed one and sank her fangs into her neck violently. The second nurse was mauled by Dylan. The third nurse screamed, but was silenced by a cold hand over her mouth. The auburn haired vampire pressed against her jugular and she collapsed on the bed.

Julie leaned towards the collapsed nurse and sank her fangs into her neck, locking her lips onto the open puncture wounds, sucking gently at first, unsure…but once she had tasted the sweetness of the blood, she sucked harder. She could taste traces of coffee, sugar, cream, and cigarettes.

"Remember to stop before the heart stops, Julie dear," said the vampire.

Julie had never tasted anything so sweet. It was like a food she had tasted once that she couldn't think of at the moment.

The Chinese girl licked her lips, blinking her golden eyes. She and the auburn haired vampire spoke in Chinese. Amazingly, Julie could understand what they were saying.  
"Good?"

Julie smiled and nodded.

"You did a very good job as well with your feeding, Julie. You didn't even spill a drop. I'm impressed."

Julie smiled.

_BREE_

Bree Hodge sat in the room where her son and daughter lay, blood bags hanging from steel tripods and needles were injected into their arms while it flowed through clear plastic tubes that were taped to their arms. Sweat dripped from their foreheads and their breathing was slow and steady.

Bree didn't understand how both her children got sick at the same time from the loss of blood. She was worried. Would they die? She sat between the two gems of her life, wiping her forehead with a cool damp cloth.

A knock came at the door and a uniformed nurse came in.

"Mrs. Hodge," said the nurse. "Someone is here to visit you and your children."

"Send them in," she replied, sniffing, holding back her tears.

A veiled figure came in with a large bouquet of flowers.

"Hello, Bree," said a Slavic voice.

"Oh, hello, Svetlana," she replied.

"I'm sorry about your children. How are they?"

"Not so good. The doctor says their blood was drained; he doesn't know how, but something attacked them and drained their blood. Thank you for your condolences."

Bree accepted the bouquet of flowers that Svetlana gave her. She went into the restroom to put water in the vase.

"Thank you, Svetlana. The flowers are beautiful." She sniffed them, inhaling their scent.

"You know," Svetlana said. "I have a confession."

"What's that?"

"I did something that may shock you, Bree. I mean, you've been so kind to me that it may be hard to tell you." She watched as Bree began to arrange the flowers neatly in the vase. "I was the one who did it."

"Did what?"

"I drained your children and left them for dead."

Bree stopped and stared in horror: Svetlana's eyes were now an ultraviolet color. Was that normal for that to…no! It wasn't!

"What…?"

"I'm very sorry, Bree," said Svetlana. "But I couldn't help how beautiful and young and delicious they were." Bree kept staring, her face white and her body was stiff. "And now, I cannot help but notice how beautiful and youthful you are, my darling." She caressed Bree's cheek; she shivered at the touch of her cold tiny hand.

Bree slowly reached for the nurse call.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Svetlana said, warningly.

Bree got a firm grip on the chord, ready to pull…a cold hand pressed down on hers, stronger than a man's. Svetlana smiled, showing her pearly fangs. Before she could scream, it was silenced with another tiny cold hand…a pair of teeth sank into her perfect neck, lips locking onto the punctures and sucking vehemently.

Bree felt herself go limp, falling into the chair. Bree moaned in pain; her body felt so weak and the twin punctures burned.

"Bree," Svetlana whispered in her ear; Bree felt her cold nose touch her cheek. "I've always admired how perfect you are." She stared into Svetlana's ultraviolet eyes and the bloody mouth and sharp fangs. "Your red hair, flawless, porcelain skin, elegant hands, and the way you cook and clean. You think your life is so perfect, yet you know it never has and never will be."

Svetlana licked her lips and Bree continued to moan.

"But would you like to be perfect forever? Youthful and flawless?" Bree's ears perked up: being perfect forever? "Not convinced, Bree? You look in the mirror and see that your face is becoming flawed every day. Look at me: look at how perfect I am. Not one blemish or flaw. Wouldn't you like to be me?"

"What is it you want from me?" Bree struggled to say.

"I'm offering you a gift. The gift of immortality. You'll never grow old, get ill, or die. Wouldn't you like that? Of course, if you don't want it, I could let you die a slow, painful death…like your children."

Bree saw that her children were indeed dying…how slow and painful it looked. She didn't want to die. She wasn't ready to die. Her husband, Rex, had died. She didn't want to go through all that pain that he did nor did she want to be decomposing in a box next to her husband's side for all eternity.

"So, my dear, do you have a final answer?"

"Yes," she managed to say. "I want your gift."

Svetlana bit her wrist and held it to Bree's lips. For the first time ever, Bree had never tasted anything so seductively sweet…of all the foods she cooked so perfectly, she couldn't compare what sweet desert she had made to Svetlana's blood. She grabbed it hungrily and sucked greedly from the open wound, enjoying every savoring drop.

Svetlana became drained; her heart was slowing down and her brain felt starved. She pulled away from Bree's mouth. Bree's muscles contracted and her jaw clenched. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed hard and her insides were being torn in different directions. She closed her eyes, wincing from the pain…and then, time just stopped.

Her red hair became a mass of soft loose curls, her skin was whiter than a porcelain doll, and her fangs grew in. She opened her sapphire eyes and looked around, blinking. Svetlana tore the blood bag that was hanging off the pole next to Danielle's bed and handed it to Bree. She popped the thin plastic and sucked it dry. It was so good! She wanted more. She tore off the blood bag that was on Andrew's side and sucked it dry.

"Now, your children, Bree," said Svetlana. "You don't want them to die, do you?"

"No."

"Well, go feed them. Feed them your essence of life, my dear."

"But…I thought only old vampires could make others."

Svetlana just smiled and laughed. "A myth created by humans. You have powerful blood within your veins. You can make anyone a vampire…however, I would choose wisely as of who you make a vampire. Not all fledglings are perfect to be immortals…they all have their flaws."

Bree stood by the bed sides of her two dying children.

"Andrew, Danielle," she whispered. The two of them opened your eyes and stared at their newly transformed mother.

She bit her left wrist and gave it to Danielle and her right she gave to Andrew. The drops fell into their mouths and they grabbed their mother's bleeding wrists, sucking hungrily and eyes wide like starving children. Bree began to feel drained as they sucked on her wrist and pulled away before she could lose another drop of blood. Her children squirmed and breathed shallow breaths. They stopped moving, with bloody mouths.

Bree watched as her children transformed into vampires. Their skin became alabaster white and fangs replaced their human canine teeth. Danielle's hair slightly curled. They opened their eyes: Andrew's eyes were golden and Danielle's became silver. They blinked and looked around.

"Come," said Svetlana. "We need to leave before the dawn comes. Get into my car. I'll take you to my house so you can rest."

The five newly born vampires left the hospital.

They say the young are the future. They are the ones who will create a new future. The ones who will go on after those who have raised them are gone. Yet, the young have to grow up someday. And create the future. However, the future is unknown to them, which is probably best to plan the future. And know the risks. Before it's too late.


	8. Episode 8

Episode 8  
"The First Bite is Always the Best"

First times are always memorable: our first introduction to the world at birth, our first taste of food, our first steps, our first words, our first school, our first friend, our first lover, our first house, our first child. Yes. First times are always memorable…even for vampires.

Svetlana remembered the night she became a vampire: the first time she tasted her maker, Markus's blood: how sweet and hot it was. She remembered how she wanted more after her transformation and her first bite into human flesh. And many have died from her deadly kiss.

It was afternoon. The newly made vampires were sleeping in their coffins in the basement. Svetlana was happy with her new companions that she had made.

She sensed something was coming, but was calm about it. She saw police cars and trucks. A team of FBI agents came out armed. Svetlana only smiled.

"FBI! Open up!" shouted a forceful male voice.

Svetlana walked up to the door, calm. There were five men, all armed and ready.

"May I help you?" she asked, smiling, her violet eyes glittering with amusement.

"FBI Agent Jeremiah," said the leader, flashing his badge. "We're looking for Xiao-Mei."

"Oh? And why?"

"She's an illegal immigrant from China. We're here to deport her."

"How did you know she was here?"

"Your neighbors, the Solis', received a letter from Xiao-Mei, saying she quit her job. Plus, some witnesses claim to have seen the same girl that matches Xiao-Mei's description coming in and out of this house every night." He took out a piece of paper. "Here's a warrant to search the premises."  
"Please," said Svetlana, holding up an elegant tiny hand as if inviting them in. "No need for that. Search all you like." She pulled the paper from Agent Jeremiah's hand to read it.

"Ouch!" he yelled. Blood flowed from a paper cut. Svetlana's eyes grew wide as she saw the deliciously red liquid flow from the open wound.

"Let me get you a bandage," Svetlana said, smiling.

Agent Jeremiah saw a red haired woman with her teenage children: a boy and a daughter, and two adolescent girls: one blonde and the other a brunette. They all stared at her. Strange, they all had strange colored eyes. The red haired woman's eyes were too blue, her son's eyes were golden and her daughter's were silver, the blonde girl's were golden as well and the brunette girl's were golden green. They all had alabaster skin that was too flawless. They stared and stared with a silence that made the hairs on the FBI's neck stand on end.

Soon, two men came from downstairs with Xiao-Mei. She turned to Svetlana; they both spoke Chinese.

"What are they saying?" asked Agent Jeremiah to the female interpreter.

"Uh…uh…" the interpreter stammered. "I don't know. This is a very complicated Chinese dialect. I've never heard anything like this before."

Svetlana turned.

"No fear," she said. "She says she's ready to go. But first, she would like to eat."

"She can eat once we bring her downtown. Now, she has to go."

"No. Now is a good time."

Suddenly, Xiao-Mei growled and shoved the other agent that was holding her and sank her fangs into the one on her right.

"Jesus Christ!" screamed the leader.

A bloody mouthed Xiao-Mei turned towards the team with bright amber eyes with fangs flaring. The three girls and the boy sped towards the other agents with ultraviolet eyes and fangs flashing angrily and hungrily.

"Fire!" shouted Agent Jeremiah.

They fired at Xiao-Mei and the other children. They just kept coming, sinking their fangs into their throats, sucking their blood dry. Svetlana smiled calmly, watching the crazy chaos with a smile. Soon, she sped towards Agent Jeremiah and tore his throat. The four vampires licked up the remaining blood on their lips.

The neighbors stopped on the streets when they saw the police cars. Soon there was shouting and gunshots; some screamed and ran into their houses to call the police about the gunfire. More police cars appeared at the white house. The cops showed up with guns drawn and knocked on the door.

"Police! Open up."

Svetlana opened the door, calmly. "May I help you?"

"We got a report about gunfire and screams," said the policeman.

Svetlana smiled.

"Everything is fine. You can go. Nothing happened."

The policemen's' minds went blank. "Of course," said one of them. "We're sorry to disturb you, miss."

"That is fine. Good day to you."

She closed the door, smiling. Just smiling.

That night, Bree stood in front of her full length mirror in her bedroom, examining the new her: her pale skin, her bright sapphire eyes, her curled red hair, and of course, her newly grown in fangs. She touched them with her tongue to feel the sharpness. She bit into her tongue and felt some blood, but it faded fast. How strange. How flawless and perfect she was, how she had always dreamed about it. The only thing she noticed that was out of place was the twin punctures on her neck. She touched them and felt a slight indentation in the holes. Panic came to her mind; if Orson or _anyone_ had seen these holes in her neck, they'd be suspicious. Well, let's hope nobody saw her fangs because that would just give her away. She could hide them by not opening her mouth as much.

Bree hadn't fed since she drank from Svetlana's wrist at the hospital. She remembered how sweet that blood tasted. She watched her children, the Chinese vampire named Xiao-Mei, Julie Mayer and Dylan Mayfair feed on that team of FBI agents that afternoon. She couldn't do it. She just couldn't! Not yet. She still didn't feel ready to take her first bite.

Orson, her husband, was sitting on the bed, reading. Bree heard a strange sound:

_Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub…_

Heart beats. They were coming from her husband. She could even hear him breathing. His thoughts, well, were a bit hard.

"Darling?" he said.

"Yes?"

"You've been standing in front of that mirror for almost ten minutes, is everything alright?"

"Yes, of course…"

More heart beats. She could see the twin Vs in his neck that swelled, beating in rhythm with his heart. She shook her head; she couldn't bear the thought of feeding on her husband. She couldn't!

"Are you coming to bed, darling?"

"Yes. Sorry. I was just fixing my hair."

"Mm," he replied.

She slid into bed with him, lying down on her side, facing away from him, hoping that he wouldn't notice her. Orson shivered when Bree's body pressed against him. She was colder than death.

"Darling?" he said. "Are you getting sick? You're whole body is freezing."

"I'm fine, dear," she replied.

"Are you…" Orson turned to look at her. Something was different about her.

He stared and stared with awe. His wife looked even more beautiful than before, almost like a porcelain doll: red ringlets, thick eyelashes, sapphire eyes, and flawless, porcelain skin.

"Darling, there's something different about you," he said.

"Oh?"

"Yes. It's your eyes. They're more luminous."

He leaned towards Bree to kiss her lips; strange, they were cold, yet at the same time, it felt erotic: the combination of hot and cold. They continued to kiss. Bree smelled the scent of cologne coming from Orson. She inhaled it, savoring the scent.

"Orson," she said.

"Mm?" he replied, necking her.

"Is that new cologne you're wearing? It smells absolutely divine."  
"I'm not wearing any cologne," he replied.

Bree shrugged it off and continued to kiss her husband. The scent of that divine cologne continued to linger in her preternatural nose and there was those heart beats again. They became faster as Orson got more excited. Bree saw the V shapes of the carotid arteries in his neck, inviting her to take a bite.

"OW!" Orson yelled. "Bree, you bit me!"

Bree felt the sweet taste of Orson's blood on her lip; her craving began to grow. She saw that Orson's lip was bright with blood.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping the blood on her chin. "It was the heat of the moment that I didn't realize it."

"What have you got in that gorgeous mouth of yours? Fangs?"  
Bree felt her face drain; even then she didn't know if vampires could do that. Her husband was a dentist. He'd know which tooth bit him.

"Darling," said Bree. "I'm going for a walk."

She went across the street to Svetlana's house. She told her everything what happened. Svetlana's violet eyes and smiled.

"Ah," she said. "That cologne you smell is actually his blood."

"Blood?"

"Yes. Your vampire senses are developing. Your senses become keener than when you were human."

Bree was silent. She was right. She noticed her vision at night was much clearer as if she were seeing during the day. She could hear mice in the attic, Orson talking on the phone in the other room with the door closed, the other person's voice on the other line: often, work and his mother, Gloria and his ex-wife, Alma. Ah! How she hated that woman! What gall she had moving across the street from her.

"You're hungry," Svetlana said.

"Yes," Bree admitted, a bit surprised that Svetlana read her mind.

"Feed then. Feed on this Alma or your husband."

"Oh! I couldn't! I just _couldn't_ feed on my husband. I love him."

Svetlana only smiled.

"So, you have chosen your victim to become one of us."

Bree bit her lip, tasting her own blood, blushing.

"I think you do. Use your gifts to seduce him. And when the time is right, offer him the dark gift. He'll accept it because his love for you is strong and he would want to spend all eternity with you."

Bree nodded. "I'll try."

Orson didn't understand his wife or his stepchildren's behavior changes: they slept all day and kept the curtains and blinds closed during the day and they never touched the food that Bree prepared. One time, when Orson went to open the shades, complaining it was too dark in the house, she screamed at him like Faye Dunaway in 'Mommie Dearest' when she found a wire hanger in the closet. He was terrified of his wife.

More missing signs were put up on Wisteria Lane.

Susan Mayer also didn't understand her daughter's behavior either. She slept during the day and kept the blinds closed and refused to eat. She suspected her daughter was using drugs or was becoming an anorexic.

"Julie?" asked Susan.

"Mm?" she said.  
"Are you doing OK?"  
"Fine."

Susan saw Julie's brown eyes were now a golden color.

"What's wrong with your eyes?"

Julie used her newly given powers. "Contacts."

"Oh. Why all of a sudden are you wearing contacts?"

"No reason. Just trying them out."

"Oh." Julie was about to turn to go to her room. "Julie, can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"Are you using drugs?"  
"WHAT?! NO! You know I don't do drugs."

"Are you anorexic?"

"Why are you asking such questions?"

"Well, you're acting kind of strange: you sleep all day and you don't eat. I just want to know what's going on."

"Nothing, absolutely nothing. I'm not on drugs, I'm not anorexic, and I'm not fooling around."

"OK, then."

When Julie went out that night, she searched her room for illicit drugs. Strange, she didn't find any.

Orson came home from work, exhausted. He wanted nothing more to eat dinner, lie down next to his wife and make love to her. The phone rang as soon as he put down his keys. It was his horrible mother, Gloria. She wanted to talk to him, saying it was important and wanted to make amends with him.

Orson sighed. He went across the street to talk to his mother…

Svetlana had a wine glass in her hand, delicately drinking it. It was fine 18th century crystal imported from France. She handed it to Bree.

"Try this," said Svetlana.

"What is it?"

"Blood. Rat blood."  
Bree shuddered, yet the smell was so appealing. She took a sip. It was bone chilling cold.

"Yes. I know. It gets cold fast."

Bree continued to drink it, appeasing her thirst. The other fledglings of Svetlana were drinking blood from wine glasses.

Bree paused, freezing from drinking her glass. She heard the voices of Alma and Gloria talking, just from next-door.

"Something is happening to Orson," she said.

"Let's go."

Bree could see it all: Orson entering the Huber that was just across the street from Svetlana's. Gloria grinding up the pills…one for sleep and one for…oh my god! Into his drink. Bree went at a supernatural speed.

Alma taking off her clothes, dressed in a red negligee, Orson getting sleepy…her riding him…

_BAM!_ The door burst open, flying off the hinges. Gloria and Alma's heart beats leapt.

"What are you doing here?" yelled Gloria.

"Saving my husband," said Bree, her blue eyes were ultraviolet, filled with rage.

"What's wrong with your eyes, Bree?" asked Alma.

She didn't answer, shoving past Gloria, knocking her down. It felt like a strong man had done it. She ran upstairs to the bedroom where Alma and her husband were lying in bed. She grabbed Alma by the hair, pulled her off, and threw her across the room with preternatural strength.

"You're too late, Bree," said Alma. "The seed has been planted. Now, I'll have the baby we have always wanted."  
"You'll _never_ have Orson," yelled Bree, baring her fangs and her ultraviolet eyes.

Alma screamed in terror.

"DEMON!!! GET AWAY!!" She made the Sign of the Cross. Bree froze, unsure of what to do. She had read that vampires didn't like religious things.

"Silly," Svetlana laughed. "You think silly religious gestures and objects are supposed to keep us away? My dear, you read too many fiction books on vampires."

Alma screamed. "Get away! Get away!" She cowered in a corner.

"Get up!" Svetlana forced her to her feet, pulling her hair, exposing her neck. "Come now, Bree. Feed. You know you want to."

Alma sobbed, trembling. "Bree, don't! I'm sorry. I just wanted my husband back. I didn't mean for it to go this far. Please! I wanted to have our baby."

"You _think_ she's sorry, Bree?" Svetlana laughed.

Bree stood there, staring at the carotid Alma's neck, slate blue and flickering. The scent of violets entered her nostrils. She looked at her sleeping husband.

"Come now, Bree," Svetlana urged. "The others are hungry. Make your choice who you want first."

"Others? There are more?"Alma said.

"Of course. You and the old lady are tonight's specials."

Alma trembled.

"I've made my choice," Bree said.

She went to Orson's side, hearing his beating heart. "For you, my love…" she whispered. "My immortal love."

She sat Orson up; he felt light as a feather in her arms, thanks to her new preternatural strength; his head tilted back like a rag doll. She opened her mouth, fangs exposed beneath her flared upper lip and bit the soft flesh like she was eating an apple for the first time; blood gushed into her mouth, warm and sweet, spreading across her tongue. Orson suddenly opened his eyes, surprised and horrified to find his wife attached to his neck and…what? What was she doing? He tried to push her off, but she was twice as strong as he.

Bree lifted her head from Orson's neck; he stared in horror at her bloody mouth and sharp teeth…no, they were fangs! So that explained everything: her strange behavior about keeping the blinds closed, her not eating, sleeping all day, her new appearance: his wife was a vampire. No! It couldn't be! And standing behind her was another vampire: auburn haired with violet eyes and porcelain skin, holding his ex-wife by the hair, smiling. No! This wasn't real! Vampires don't exist. They were just in ghost stories.

"How wrong you are, Orson," the auburn haired vampire with a Slavic accent replied. "We do exist."

Orson felt the hair on his neck stand up. It was as if the vampire had read his mind!

"Orson," said Bree. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you. I just couldn't tell you. I want to let you know that I want you to be my first."  
"First?"

"To feed on because I chose love for a lover over the hatred and death of an enemy. I chose you because my love for you is eternal and I want you to be my immortal lover forever."

"Forever? That seems to be a long time, Bree."  
"It is. And I want to spend eternity with you."

She bit her wrist and offered it to Orson. "Drink and live forever," she whispered.  
Blood drops fell onto Orson's lips. He just couldn't drink blood. It was disgusting…yet it tasted so divine! He let a few drops fall into his mouth and wanted more. He brought Bree's pale wrist to his mouth, paused to say.

"For you, my love, I shall drink from your vine of eternal life."

He locked his lips onto her open wound and sucked greedily, savoring his wife's blood. Bree felt drained…how fast he drank. She pulled her wrist away. Alma stared in horror she beheld.

Orson laid on the bed, twitching in agony and groaning loudly, blood staining his mouth and teeth clenched tightly. Bree sat by his side, watching as he transformed into an immortal. His skin whitened and fangs appeared. He blinked awake with golden eyes. Ah! How beautiful his vampire wife was!

"Darling," he spoke.

"Mm?"

"I thirst."

She smiled.

"Well, Orson," said the Slavic vampire. "Welcome to the immortal world."

"Sweetheart," said Bree. "This is my maker, Svetlana."

"Pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine." She paused. "Now, let us feast at my house."

The vampires went to Svetlana's house, having both Alma and Mother Hodge in her grasp. They went to her house, there waiting five young and hungry vampires, their eyes wide with hunger as they stared at the fresh mortals.

"Allow me," said Orson. "To take the first bite."

Svetlana smiled.

Orson took his mother into his arms, who trembled in terror at her newly transformed son with alabaster skin, golden eyes, and pearly fangs.

"Orson, don't!" she begged. "You wouldn't do this to your own mother, my son. I love you. I gave you life. I've given you everything."

"Mother, I've waited my whole life to do this," Orson said. "You never loved _anyone_ but yourself. You've lived your life long enough to make me miserable. It's over now."

"Orson, please! Don't do this!" Alma begged.

Orson flared his fangs, forcing her neck back and sank his fangs into her soft throat while she screamed and struggled; he tasted the warm gush on his tongue. The other vampire fledglings fidgeted at the smell of blood.

"Bree, please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that to your husband. I just wanted him bac…" she screamed and struggled and Bree bit into her neck, tasting the sweet blood.

"Feed, my children," said Svetlana.

The young vampire fledglings fed. Andrew and Julie fed on Alma's wrists and Xiao-Mei and Danielle and Dylan fed on Mother Hodge's wrists, draining every last ounce. The corpses of the two women fell limp with bloody punctures on their bodies.

First times. They will always be memorable. While some firsts are good and people live with these memories, there are those that regret their first times. For they have to live with that mistake for the rest of their lives.


End file.
